Chapter 3

The intruder didn't seem too threatening, dressed only in a towel, and he grinned at me as if I ought to know who he was. Around my age, his hair was a light-brown colour and stubble covered the lower part of his face. He mopped his brow with a hand, as if he'd just been immersed in some kind of sweat-inducing activity.

‘You must be Claire,' he said. His voice was deep and husky and fitted his appearance perfectly.

‘I am indeed.'

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Claire with an "i"?'

‘I don't see how that's relevant, but yes.'

‘Are you planning to smash that bottle over my head?' he said.

‘Seeing as I have no idea who you are, it's a strong possibility, yes.'

Leaning forward and reading the label, he said, ‘It would be a terrible waste of…oh, it's that rancid ginger wine from the shop. You must have been desperate for a drink.'

Feeling like an idiot, I placed the bottle on the table, keeping my hand gripped round its neck. He seemed harmless, but still.

‘I'm Jim from next door, by the way.'

‘Jim, the ranger?'

He nodded. ‘That's me.'

So he wasn't middle-aged after all.

‘And you're the curator from that fancy art gallery in London?'

‘Yep.'

Despite his looks, he was kind of annoying.

‘Anyway, what are you doing in my house?' I said.

‘What do you mean?' he said.

‘I don't recall the contract saying half-naked strangers can wander in whenever they like.'

‘I'm sure there's a clause in there somewhere. You must have missed it.'

Admittedly, he was quite funny. Squashing a smile, I said, ‘Aren't you a bit cold?'

‘Does that worry you?' he said, adjusting the towel round his waist.

Struggling not to picture what lay beneath, my face warmed. No doubt my cheeks were the beetroot colour they tended to go in such situations. An awkward silence hung between us but he refused to move his eyes away from mine. They were a deep blue like the Med on a blistering-hot day. Releasing my grip on the bottle, I looked away, sliding my hands into the back pockets of my jeans.

‘Hardly a stranger, am I though, being a colleague?' he said.

He was a little intimidating. I bit my lip.

‘Mike, your predecessor, let me use the shower as mine is broken.' He wasn't leaving without getting his wash.

‘Oh, right,' I said, defeated.

‘Look, Claire, it's quiz night for the volunteers down the Stables, and I'm hosting, so if you don't mind.'

He stepped out of his flip-flops and placed them neatly by the wall, one in front of the other, before disappearing through the door and up the stairs. If you don't mind. What a cheek. How could I allow this person to intimidate me in my own home? Fired up by this thought, I followed and called after him.

‘Just because Mike didn't mind doesn't mean I don't,' I said, the words coming out as a tangled mess. So many negatives – what had I even said? As I repeated the sentence to myself under my breath, he appeared on the landing and folded his arms.

‘Claire, I understand you're a bit flustered with me barging in, but I've been out on the land all day, working my arse off, and I need a wash before this damn quiz night. The sweat is literally dripping off me. If you were standing any closer, you'd be aware that I absolutely stink. Are you saying I can't use your shower?' he said.

‘Not exactly, but I mean, how long is it for?'

He shrugged.

‘Five minutes, tops.'

Why was this man having such an effect on my ability to make myself understood?

‘No, I meant when will your shower be fixed? Having you barge in like this whenever you feel like it is a bit much.'

‘The plumber is booked for next week.'

‘Okay, then,' I said, turning my back on him.

‘You may want to put the hot water on for a bit longer,' he called after me before going into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him, the lock clicking into place.

With a sigh, I made my way to the landing. Already the shower pump hummed, the sound of water splashing into the bath. I put the hot water on for an extra hour, ready for a bath before bed. Back in the kitchen, I sprayed the worktops with disinfectant, giving them a thorough wipe, then made a start on the shelves in the fridge. Jim was burly enough to fend off any actual intruders, and that was a comfort at least. The sound of running water came through the ceiling while I washed up, studying the patio through the kitchen window. It would be a nice place to sit on a warm day with a glass of wine. I could plant new flowers in the pots, maybe some herbs too.

Jim came back into the kitchen. ‘Err, Claire…' he said, his tone more friendly now. His thick hair was wet, and he ran a hand through it.

‘Yes?' I said, drying my hands on the back of my jeans.

He pulled out a chair and gestured for me to join him at the table. He certainly wasn't lacking in confidence. I sat down.

‘It must have been a shock for you when I let myself into your house.'

‘So now it is my house?'

He smiled and nodded. ‘And I'm sorry.'

‘I guess this is as exciting as evenings get round here.'

‘Where did you live before?'

‘Wimbledon.'

‘Ah yes, a bit more lively perhaps, but you haven't experienced quiz night yet.'

I laughed.

‘Why don't you come along? You'd probably be the only person apart from me under the age of seventy, but they are a nice bunch, and we ordered a few bottles of Rioja in especially.'

‘I start my new job tomorrow, so…' I said.

‘There's always next month.' He leant across the table, proffering a hand. ‘No hard feelings?'

‘Sure,' I said, shaking it. His grip was firm, and he fixed his eyes on me once again. Really, he needed to stop this. But I ought to stay on good terms with him, being a colleague. And he'd be good at fixing things, no doubt – apart from his own shower.

He pushed his chair back and stood up. I went to put my glass by the sink.

‘So, you don't mind me keeping hold of these keys, then?'

I shook my head. ‘No, but perhaps cover yourself a bit more next time.'

‘Too much?' he said.

Definitely too much.

‘I'll give you a set of my keys as well, just in case I lock myself out, if that's okay?'

‘Okay,' I said.

‘See you later, Claire with an "i".'

‘Bye.'

He slipped his flip-flops back on and left, shutting the door carefully behind him. Once again, I was alone. Knowing Jim would be there while I slept that night was reassuring, at least, and I couldn't help thinking that living next door to him might liven things up a bit.

Picking up my keys, I went to unload the rest of my stuff from the car. As I carried boxes into the cottage and upstairs to the bedroom, it occurred to me that this was the beginning of a new era. Putting the cover on my duvet, my thoughts returned to all I'd been through in the past couple of months. This was my chance to make a fresh start and find the time to process all that had happened. I made a cup of tea and took it upstairs with my laptop, ready to snuggle up in bed and watch Netflix while the water heated up for my bath.