Chapter 13
The estate agent was as busy and hassled as ever when Aria pitched up. She tied Tiger securely outside, then hung around nervously in the shop, wondering whether or not to confess her blunder.
But the agent stepped in first. ‘I need to apologise for yesterday’s baptism of fire, Aria,’ she said when she finally came off the phone.
‘I thought we were in the clear when the viewer cancelled. I had no idea the developer was going to turn up. I gather he tested you on the house’s selling points… ’
Aria tried to make the connections. ‘The developer?’
‘Nic Castle wasn’t happy with the service we provided, but I’m not blaming you.
It was your first job with us and even I would baulk at having to show a client his own property.
Judging by your face, I assume he didn’t reveal who he was?
I’m not sure why he did that. This job is a smorgasbord of surprises. ’
Aria was still struggling to catch up. ‘I met with Nic Castle?’
The estate agent sat back down at her computer.
‘I’m ignoring his threat to take the property elsewhere.
We invested a lot of money into the photographs and video, and he is front and centre of our marketing this month.
Castle Enterprises won’t get that kind of exposure at the other agencies in town.
Plus, they’re focused on local selling.’
‘He complained about me?’ Her mind raced through all the insults she’d spat out about developers and people from London.
‘Take it with a pinch of salt. You and I hardly had time for a briefing the other day so I wouldn’t have expected you to have intimate knowledge of the house.
I struggled to find the light on the kitchen island first time I looked around it and that Aga is very complicated.
But I think we will need to train you up a little before sending you to any more lakeside properties.
Anyway, I must get on. We’re completing on a deal today.
A really nice house. You know the one near Seven Trees?
The big white building? An American has bought it. ’
Her dad used to point out the house during his commentary as someone famous from history did the landscaping. Yet another property stolen from under their noses. ‘I know it. It’s the one with the Italian-style gardens. And all the sculptures.’
‘Four gardens to be exact, plus a pond and various streams. I need to find someone to tidy them up. The new owner, a singer, I believe, won’t be using the house on a regular basis but wants it looked after.
The stream is clogged, there’s a bad smell coming from the pond and the foliage is out of control.
The videographer could barely get down the path to film the outer reaches. ’
‘I could do it,’ Aria said. ‘If it’s just tidying up. I’m not a trained gardener, but I do know my wisteria from my willow. My father taught me a lot about plants.’
‘Your lovely dad! Such a shame. The good die young, they say, so I’ll be on this earth till I’m a hundred and ninety,’ the agent sighed.
‘It’s really just donkey work. You are welcome to tackle it.
In fact, it’ll save me a job finding someone who doesn’t want to landscape it into submission at a huge cost. Can you take a look and send me a quote?
Preferably a one-off fee for an initial sweep.
We can take it month by month after that. ’
‘Of course. Ping me the address and I’ll pop over. Would it be OK to invoice for the job this morning, even though it didn’t go particularly smoothly?’ Aria asked shyly.
When the agent agreed, she left the shop feeling cheered.
She found Tiger attempting to slip out of his lead again.
‘Not this time, Houdini. Calm down and we can go shopping.’ Aria walked down the road with a new spring in her step.
Only a few days in and she was beginning to smash it, if you didn’t count being mostly jobless and falling out with her neighbour.
Her deposit from her old flat should have landed in her account and she salivated at the idea of buying some proper food.
Pretending not to notice the ‘no dogs’ sign at the supermarket entrance, she made her way in, ruminating over the disastrous meeting with her father’s nemesis.
How dare he put in a complaint after she’d put aside her principles to show him around the property, exhausted herself wrangling his complicated gadgets and endured his charmless chat.
And that was before she factored in the stupid gate.
Aria picked up a melon, checked the price and put it straight back on the shelf.
When had everything become so expensive?
Looking round, she noticed the contents of the shop were a lot more upmarket than she remembered.
She searched for vegetables that fitted her limited budget.
The cabbages were bad value. She should grow her own in the woodland – create a small allotment on the patch of land she’d just cleared.
Meanwhile, the carrots came in a rainbow of colours, probably to fleece tourists who wouldn’t even be able to discern their unique tastes.
Picking up a bunch of basil, she snorted its aroma.
Then she ran her fingers over an expensive potato, flaking its skin off with her nails.
‘But were they really picked today?’ she questioned, a little too loudly, earning her a frown from the cashier who was sitting at the till doing nothing.
She supposed she should feel glad it was still an independent shop.
Her dad always ranted about chain stores taking over the Lakes.
In fact, he considered his main job as a town councillor was to block them.
She sighed. Only a couple of years ago, he’d been litter-picking daily on the fells, zooming around the rock and ice like a cross between Chris Bonington and a Womble.
How could such a bright flame have been extinguished so suddenly?
She choked back tears, wandering the aisles with Tiger, putting as little stuff into her basket as possible before reaching the stationery.
Picking up a pack of postcards, she ripped off the cellophane, grabbed a pen from the shelf and wrote an advert for house-sitting.
Maybe someone would go on holiday for the summer.
While a handwritten sign didn’t look particularly professional, it did the job.
Shopping on a budget was surprisingly time-consuming.
By the time she’d got what she needed, she had two baskets crammed with basics and was about to miss the next bus home.
As she waited her turn at the checkout, holding Tiger close on the lead, she hoped he would be as patient.
Approaching the front of the queue, she realised she knew the cashier from school.
Sophie Rushton was still a slip of a thing, her sleek black hair dip-dyed blue and cut into a geometrical shape Aria had only ever seen in manga comics.
She looked around for a self-service till to avoid an awkward chat, but there were none.
When it was Aria’s turn to be served, she was relieved when Sophie didn’t recognise her.
She feverishly tried to pack the food into two ancient carrier bags she had found under the sink while keeping the dog hidden behind her heels.
Carefully placing a pint of milk into the bottom of one, she popped the she popped the postcards and eggs at the top.
Leaving the wine sitting on the counter to grab after paying, she took in a sharp breath at the total, before holding her phone up to the card reader.
‘Declined,’ said Sophie.
Shaking her head in frustration, Aria produced a card from her wallet and quickly swiped it.
‘Also declined,’ Sophie smiled.
Aria wiped the card on her sleeve, as though removing fluff might sort it out. ‘Erm, I might have to put something back.’
Sophie’s hair fell into her eyes, and she pushed it away like it was a pervasive weed. ‘So?’
‘So…’ Aria repeated.
‘So, what are you going to put back? It can’t be the postcards because you’ve already written one.
’ They looked down at the ripped package and scrawled card on top of her shopping.
‘Wish you were here?’ grinned the cashier, a bit spitefully, Aria thought, wishing she was anywhere else than at this till, in this supermarket, at this moment in time.
Putting the key to the hut down on the counter, she felt around in her pockets for loose change, causing Tiger to bark.
‘A dog!’ said her former classmate, managing to look equally delighted and disgusted. Aria wished the ground would swallow her up.
‘In need of some further assistance?’
Spinning around at the unmistakably confident voice, Aria came face-to-face with Nic Castle – the man formerly known as Stephen.
He took up space in his imperious way, taller than everyone else and looking thoroughly relaxed in his open-necked shirt.
In fact, he had so much natural authority, he could apply for store manager and would probably get the job.
The sullen cashier smiled at him. God, thought Aria, people fall at the feet of arrogant dickheads all the time.
They only have to flash their ridiculously attractive smiles, and women drop their guard or their panties.
Well, her underwear was cryogenically frozen where he was concerned – he’d need a pickaxe to chip away the ice.
‘What’s the problem here?’ A young man appeared, his face dotted with acne.
The shop assistant explained the delay with trademark honesty. ‘Well, she has a dog, which isn’t allowed. She defaulted on paying for her shopping, which isn’t allowed. And she’s technically stolen these, which, as you’ll have concluded…’
‘I’m sure they get the picture.’ Aria reddened, willing her to shut up.
‘But you got the postcards. And, if we turned our backs, I think you’d be trying to nick the ‘picked todays’ even though you were disputing their provenance earlier.’ When Nic raised an eyebrow, Sophie mouthed ‘spuds’.
Were they all in league here? Aria turned to Nic. ‘I expect you’ll be calling the police. It took you about thirty seconds to snitch on me to my boss,’ she said, desperately rootling in her purse for change or a bank note to get her out of this retail hellhole.
‘Nothing personal,’ he said. ‘The viewing wasn’t as professional as I’d expect.’
‘But you aren’t a buyer. You know every inch of the house and set me up to fail.’ Turning away from him, Aria announced she’d go to the bank and return with the cash.
Sophie printed out her receipt and slammed it on top of the till. ‘You can’t. The last bank in Inglemere shut down months ago. And someone rammed a car into the only cashpoint on the high street last night. Apparently, people are coming in from Manchester to rob us now.’
Not this again, Aria thought, as she promised Sophie she’d go to the post office instead.
‘Sorry. Early closing.’
‘There’s a simple way of sorting this,’ Nic said, taking out his phone and walking over to the pin pad.
Was there anything the man didn’t think he could control with his phone?
‘I don’t need your charity, thanks, Stephen.
Or is it Nic now? Hard to keep up with the identities of some of our visitors,’ Aria said with a firm shake of her head.
The man-boy with Trainee Manager on his badge nudged his way into the stand-off.
Tiger growled at him, and Aria rushed to apologise.
‘Sorry, he doesn’t like strange men…’ she started to say as she watched Tiger cosy up to the rich guy again.
‘He likes me,’ Nic said, continuing to dominate the space with his substantial frame and arrogant manner. Sophie winked and put two fingers down her throat from behind the till. Aria almost cheered, until the trainee manager sold her down the river.
‘I think it would be a good idea for you to accept his offer as we are very busy with weekend visitors.’
Sophie then ruined the female solidarity. ‘She’s written a letter on the postcards. If she tries to give the toilet rolls back, you might want to check them for her memoirs.’
Aria felt herself blushing. Backed into a corner, she nodded at Sophie to proceed. Then she turned to Nic and stiffly thanked him.
Picking up the carrier, she clutched it to her chest. Too late, she felt the box of eggs crash to the floor.
The lid flipped open, and half a dozen yolks oozed into shards of broken shell.
‘Tiger, no!’ she cried as her dog licked at the raw egg.
‘Listeria! He’s been trying to lap up the lake water recently too. Do you have a death wish, pup?’
The trainee manager sniffed. ‘I can assure you we don’t sell eggs with listeria.’
Letting go of Tiger’s lead, she tried to push him out of the way, as a packet of half price smoked haddock dropped out of the bottom of the carrier bag, adding to the mess on the floor.
‘Kedgeree!’ Nic Castle grinned widely, clearly enjoying the spectacle.
Sophie called for more customer service, and someone appeared as if by magic with a mop. Did this cabaret not have enough actors? Aria pushed misshapen fish and broken eggs back into the damaged bag, clutching the bottom with both hands and deciding mice must have been nibbling at the carriers.
‘Do you always pay for a stranger’s shopping? Can I tell you when I’m doing mine?’ Sophie asked Nic, as she opened up a bag for life.
‘We’re not really strangers,’ Nic said, tapping his card for a second time to pay for his own groceries as Aria nudged Tiger with her foot and pulled the end of his lead. ‘We spent this morning together.’
‘Yeah, turns out he’s the vampire next door,’ Aria spat out, checking she had a tight hold of the bottom of the bag this time while turning in the direction of the exit.
‘The vampire next door? Come on, I don’t bite unless I’m asked.’ Nic smirked, until a light-bulb thought interrupted his playfulness and his voice turned cold. ‘But I’d appreciate if you didn’t interfere with my builders in future, Miss Wilson.’
‘Well, I’d appreciate if you didn’t interfere with my access in future, Mr Castle!’ She didn’t look back as the door opened automatically and released her into the fresh air.