Joker in the Pack (Blackwood UK #1)

Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

THE NEXT TWO weeks passed in a blur of brown paper, string, and bubble wrap. I must have posted out a hundred parcels, but I’d still made no visible dent in what I’d taken to calling the “piles of peril” and Maddie had termed the “rooms of doom.”

On the bright side, I’d paid off the arrears on Eleanor’s utility bills, and now I had gas, electricity, and internet.

From the state of the cottage, I’d assumed Eleanor was technologically backwards, but when I’d spoken to the telecoms company, I’d found she’d had not one, but two broadband connections. Why two? Even I didn’t need two, and I relied on the internet for my job.

The two lines undoubtedly went with the two computers I’d found in the bottom cupboard of the monstrous shelving unit. A state-of-the-art laptop and a MacBook Pro, both new, both expensive. I’d tried turning them on, but I didn’t have her passwords, so I’d shoved them back where they lived until I decided what to do with them. Could I use one of them to replace my creaking Toshiba? Or should I try selling them? Trouble was, I had no clue what was on the hard drives, and I didn’t want to risk flogging any confidential data to the highest bidder.

Maddie had mentioned a computer programmer on a couple of occasions—a brother of one of her colleagues, or maybe a cousin. Would he take a look? I jotted a reminder on my calendar app to ask Maddie what she thought. She’d been due to visit last weekend, but last-minute work problems had meant I got a phone call instead.

“You know that promotion I got?”

Maddie had been made ward sister six months ago, and Edward had been miffed because I went out to celebrate with her instead of accompanying him to one of his work get-togethers.

“I’m not likely to forget. You got me drunk on cocktails right after you found out.”

She giggled. “That was an awesome night. But the honeymoon period is officially over. Do you remember that other girl who wanted the job?”

“The one who calls in sick whenever she’s got a hangover?”

“That’s her. Anyway, she’s got it in for me now. Her friend in the admin department does the rotas, and they keep putting me on horrible shifts.”

“Can’t you say something? Who’s in charge?”

“Wish I could, but I need to keep my head down at the moment.” She went silent for a few seconds. “I got reported for filling in a patient’s chart wrongly last week. I know I made a mistake, but I was so tired I just couldn’t see straight. Three guesses who reported me?”

“What a mean cow. Is there anything I can do to help?”

After the help Maddie gave me with Edward, I felt I should offer to unpick the seams on the woman’s clothes or stuff a mackerel in her sofa cushions.

“I’ll manage, but I might need to let off steam over the phone every so often.”

“Any time.”

Aw, it was almost disappointing. I’d quite enjoyed the guilty buzz I got from my revenge on Edward.

“I’ll visit you soon, I promise.”

“You’d better. I think we both need a hug.”

Even though Maddie couldn’t make it, Dave came on his own and poked around for a morning.

“I’ve changed the fuse box and rewired the light in your bedroom, but apart from that, it’s in surprisingly good nick.”

“How about the oven?”

“Old, but usable.”

Hurrah! At least I could cook properly now. At times like this, a girl needed cake.

I spent three solid afternoons cleaning the kitchen from top to bottom, and gradually, the years of grime receded to reveal a serviceable work area, at least until I could afford something better. The ceiling still had a yellow hue to it, but until I repainted, it would have to stay.

And painting came somewhere near the bottom of my list. There was still too much junk around for me to get at most of the walls, and I couldn’t afford paint, anyway.

No, I needed to get my priorities straight. With the sale proceeds from one of the three hedge trimmers I’d found, none of which had been anywhere near the overgrown garden, I bought enough ingredients to make several batches of cupcakes. A morning spent baking made the house feel more like a home, especially once the delicious aromas began drifting around downstairs.

And while I couldn’t deny I was looking forward to sampling the spoils, I did have an ulterior motive as I piped on frosting and added a few white chocolate curls. Once I’d packaged up the cakes neatly on paper plates, half a dozen to each, and added gift bows, I took them around to the neighbours.

Lilac Cottage lay second from the end in a row of five, although the large gardens meant they were widely spaced. Nobody answered the door at the house to the right, so I left the cakes inside the porch with a note and carried on to the other three.

At Woodbine Cottage, directly to Lilac’s left, a lady in her sixties opened the door while I was admiring the outside of her home. Built in the same style as Aunt Ellie’s place, nobody had skimped on the maintenance, and the neat exterior showed what was possible with a bit of effort. In short, it gave me something to aspire to.

“Come in, dearie. I’ve been wondering when we’d meet our new neighbour.”

“I’ve brought you some cakes.”

“Such a treasure. Why don’t you join me for a cup of tea and we can share them?”

So far, so good. Inside, Woodbine Cottage had a real country vibe going with bouquets of fresh flowers and little touches like the antique boot scraper near the front door.

The lady led me through to a rustic kitchen, complete with copper pans hanging from a rack over the central island. She certainly had all the good taste Aunt Ellie had been lacking.

“I’m Olivia, by the way,” I told her.

“And I’m Yvonne.”

Over a calming cup of camomile, she told me more about Upper Foxford. The village sounded as if it was in limbo, stuck between a time warp of retired people and the commuters gradually replacing them as they died off.

“So I’m an anomaly, then? Seeing as I plan to spend my days here rather than trekking back into the city?” Although when I thought about it, the lure of London formed an attractive option.

“Well, yes, but there’s plenty here for everyone. The Women’s Institute is having a fundraiser tonight for the local hospice. I don’t suppose I can convince you to come and bring a plate of those lovely cakes for the raffle?”

Hmm, my desire for acceptance battled against the prospect of an interrogation from every lady in the village. Was I ready for that level of scrutiny?

No. Not yet. I just couldn’t do it.

“I can certainly donate a selection of cakes, but I’m afraid I already have plans for this evening.”

Her raised eyebrow said she didn’t quite believe me.

“Uh, a conference call with a client,” I garbled. “In the United States. It’s been arranged for a while.”

And now I’d have to pretend to be on the phone for an hour just in case she sent someone around to check.

“In that case, you really must come to our next event.”

“Absolutely. I’d love to.” Did she realise I had my fingers crossed behind my back? “Oh dear, look at the time. I’d better get going—I’ve got cakes to deliver to our other neighbours as well.”

“I can save you some time there—Dennis and June at the far end are on one of those around-the-world cruises, and Samantha and Julian in between are commuters. They never get back until late on weekdays, and they’re out most of the weekend. Honestly, they’d be better off living in town.”

Apart from the insane property prices, obviously.

I ate the leftover cakes myself while catching up on web design work, and by the end of my first fortnight in Upper Foxford, that side of my life was up to date. I’d also begun making more money from eBay as more auctions ended, and four rooms in the cottage were pretty much habitable. Life began to get a little easier, apart from one small issue: loneliness.

I’d always imagined that if I moved out of my London flat, it would be to shack up with Edward. Despite the rawness I felt from his fling, I still missed him, or at least his company. I longed for somebody to talk to as I pottered around the house, a soulmate to curl up next to on the sofa while I read a book on chilly evenings.

Night-times were worst, when I had a cold double bed to myself. Would I ever meet another man? One who could love me even with those photos of my Taurus escapade plastered all over the internet? I was still getting messages every day about that, including one this morning from a Middle Eastern prince who wanted to marry me if I’d only help him to launder six million dollars through my bank account.

I was still moping alone on Friday evening when I heard a quiet scratching coming from the back door. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I grabbed the poker from its spot beside the fireplace and tiptoed through to the kitchen.

“Who’s there?”

More scratching, followed by a plaintive miaow.

A cat?

I opened the door and a skinny tabby slunk between my legs, heading for a spot by the fridge and sniffing around. I recalled the tins of cat food I’d found in one of the kitchen cupboards. Could he be Aunt Ellie’s?

“Do you live here, little one?”

He wove in and out of my legs, and I could feel his ribs against my ankles.

“Are you hungry? Let me find you something to eat.”

He wolfed down a bowlful of Whiskas and a saucer of milk then stared up at me, eyes big.

“Do you want more?”

I opened another tin, and he ate that too.

“You’re kind of cute. Do you have a name?”

I reached down to scritch his head, and he purred softly. He’d been surviving on mice all this time, no doubt. There were plenty of them running around in the garden, which was something else that gave me the creeps, and I could hear their little paws pitter-pattering around inside the roof too. The sounds had given me several sleepless nights before I’d worked out what the noise must be.

I’d never had a pet before, but there was a first time for everything, and a mouse-hunter certainly had appeal.

“Let’s call you Twiglet, shall we?”

He mewed in response.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Apart from the mice, I’d had to get used to the ominous creaks and groans as the house settled for the night. In London, I’d tuned out the slamming of car doors, the shouts of drunken revellers, and my upstairs neighbour clomping around, and now the relative silence kept me awake. Apart from the occasional hoot of an owl or the terrifying screams as a fox caught its prey, nights in Upper Foxford were as quiet as the grave.

Twiglet did his best, but by the time another weekend drew to a close, I was craving human company. I couldn’t keep running to Maddie every time I felt lonely. She had enough on her plate at the hospital.

So, on Monday morning, I pulled on my brave pants and ventured into Daisy’s café on the high street, gingerly scanning the menu on the table nearest to the door. Oh, thank goodness—no celery porridge in sight. In fact, the light lunches looked delicious, and they served afternoon tea as well. I’d always loved afternoon tea with Edward, usually at the Four Seasons or the Savoy, but those places were well out of my price range now. Daisy’s served a selection of crustless sandwiches with a scone and mini cakes for six pounds fifty.

And Daisy herself turned out to be only a year older than me, living out my dream of running a bakery with a few tables for patrons to enjoy her delights. She loved to stop for a natter too, which allowed me to find out more about the local area as well as getting out for lunch each day.

“I grew up in Lower Foxford,” she told me a week later over quiche. “It’s the next village but one, the other side of Middleton Foxford. You’ve got to give medieval people ten out of ten for originality with those names, huh?”

“Are the villages that old?”

“Lower Foxford appeared in the Doomsday book. If you take a walk around, there are some beautiful old Tudor cottages.”

“I’ll do that one day, but for the moment, I’m using every spare second to sort out the mess in Aunt Ellie’s house.”

“I heard she was addicted to online shopping. Is that true?”

I gave a hollow laugh. “Is it ever. She seemed to buy six of everything, whether she had a use for them or not.”

“The postman used to complain she was giving him a hernia. It was him who found her—did you know that?”

“What do you mean, found her?”

“Dead. On the couch. It was a Monday, so she’d been there over the weekend. All swelled up, he said, just like a beached whale.”

I clutched at my stomach as I ran for the restroom at the back of the café, and luckily, I made it to the toilet before I lost my lunch. Aunt Ellie had died on the sofa? The sofa I’d been sitting on? Hell, I’d even slept on it that first night. The mere thought of that had me heaving again.

“Are you okay?” Daisy passed me a handful of paper towels.

I wiped at my mouth, but it was a few minutes before I felt well enough to walk back out to my table. Even then, the sight of my half-eaten food nearly sent me running back.

“It’s just the sofa…” I explained, and Daisy clapped a hand over her mouth.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise.”

“How could you? I didn’t even know she’d died in the house. Someone told me the ambulance crew broke down the door to get to her, so I assumed they took her to hospital and she died there.”

“I think the ambulance was just a formality.”

“I have to get that sofa out of my living room.” The mere thought of it kept my stomach churning.

Daisy rose to her feet. “The lunchtime crowd are all gone now. How about I close up for half an hour and give you a hand?”

“Really? You’d do that?”

“It’s the least I can do after the whole…” She gestured at the restroom. “You know.”

Back at Lilac Cottage, we donned rubber gloves and stared at the evil brown monstrosity. I gave one arm a tentative tug, but it barely moved.

Daisy wrinkled her nose. “Even with two of us, this is going to be difficult.”

“This sofa is leaving the house today, even if I have to hack it to pieces with nail scissors.”

“Do you have two pairs?”

No, but I did have a brainwave. “I think Aunt Ellie had a saw in all the stuff she bought. I saw it a few days ago, if you’ll excuse the pun.”

I’d grown immune to the piles of peril, but Daisy’s gasp as she followed me into the dining room reminded me just how bad they were.

“Holy crap! I mean, I imagined Mrs. Rigby had a lot of nicknacks, but this is unreal.”

“It was worse than this when I first arrived. Hold on, I think the saw was somewhere near the window.”

I clambered over a couple of boxes containing George Foreman-esque grills, cursed under my breath as I stubbed my toe on a fancy plant stand, and emerged triumphant.

“Here it is.”

“Isn’t that a wood saw?”

I didn’t know one type of saw from another. When we’d had to select our classes, I’d done home economics instead of woodwork.

“If it can cut through wood, surely it must be able to go through a sofa?”

“I guess.”

Over the next hour, we sweated and swore as we sawed the disgusting thing in half, straight down the middle. Now that I knew that parts of the pattern most likely belonged to bodily fluids, I felt queasy the whole time.

Stuffing flew everywhere and one of my eyes nearly got taken out by a wayward spring, but finally, we got the whole thing into the back garden next to the tumbledown shed I’d discovered last week. I had no idea what to do with the sofa from there, but at least it was out of the house. I’d worry about the next step later. Over a glass of wine with Maddie, most likely.

Daisy glanced at her watch. “I really should get back to the café now.”

“Thanks so much for your help, and I’m sorry it took so long.”

She waved my apology away. “Nonsense. If I were in your position, I couldn’t have had that thing in the house a moment longer either.”

“But still… Thank you. I’ll stop in tomorrow for lunch, okay?”

She gave me a quick hug. “I promise not to mention dead people again.”

I shuddered. “And I promise not to puke up your food.”

“It’s a deal.”

I smiled as she hurried off up the road. With Warren and Daisy, at least I’d made some new friends in the village.