Chapter Four

I only manage to blow up three balloons before Mum sends me upstairs to change. Under normal circumstances, I’d have changed in the guest bedroom, but since Burglar James has somehow commandeered that room, I squeeze into the box room that is now Gran’s sewing and craft room. I don’t usually wear dresses, but I have to admit that I’ve picked a particularly pretty one that I think Mum will love (and definitely deem suitable for the party). The pale oyster skater dress is sleeveless, with a laced bodice and double-layered skirt that billows when I twirl (which I do in the limited space of the box room, until I start to feel dizzy). And the best bit is, it has pockets .

‘Oh, Cleo.’ Mum’s in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches to the buffet while Burglar James hangs bunting from one end of the room to the other. Rather than sounding stunned by the beautiful dress I’ve chosen, she sounds… disappointed. ‘You didn’t buy new shoes to go with the dress?’

I look down at my feet. I’m still wearing my glittery Converse, which I happen to think work well with the dress. Plus, I won’t be complaining of blisters and numb toes all night.

‘I think you look great.’ James is standing on one of the kitchen chairs and I idly wonder how injured he’d be if I gave the legs a swift kick and he tumbled onto the tiles.

‘Do you really?’ I run my fingers through my hair, which has been released from its messy bun and is tumbling around my shoulders. ‘Or are you brown-nosing in the hope I won’t see right through you?’

‘Cleo.’ Mum’s tone is dark, but I won’t back down on this. She may be okay with this dude moving in with my elderly grandmother (who would kill me if she knew I’d described her as such) but I smell a rat. A big, stinking rat. I’ve listened to enough true crime podcasts to spot the signs of a con man so James may have charmed my mother, but I’m on to him.

‘What exactly are you going to see?’ James doesn’t have the grace to face me as he questions me. He’s turned back to the task of tacking the bunting above the sink.

‘You’re up to something.’ I narrow my eyes as I watch him press a drawing pin into the wall. ‘Are you planning to seduce my gran?’

The chair wobbles as James spins around, the string of bunting falling from his fingers and the pin bouncing into the sink. ‘You what ?’

‘For goodness’ sake, Cleo.’ Mum scrunches the cling film in her hand into a ball. ‘Your grandmother is eighty-five, and James is… How old are you?’

‘Twenty-eight.’ He plucks the drawing pin out of the sink and pulls the bunting back up towards the wall. ‘And no, I’m not planning to seduce Cordy. The tenancy is up on my house and the landlord didn’t want to renew because his daughter wants to move in instead, so Cordy’s letting me stay here for a few weeks until I sort something out. And I’ll be paying her board, I assure you.’

‘Why do you keep calling her Cordy?’

James secures the bunting in place and hops down from the chair. ‘Because that’s her name?’

‘Her name is Cordelia . Only her friends call her Cordy.’

James shifts the chair over a few inches and climbs back up. ‘I guess I’m one of her friends then.’

I do not like this guy, and I don’t buy his story for one minute. Why would my grandmother invite some random guy to move in with her? Where did they meet and when? How long has this guy been working on my gran, earning her trust and worming his way into her affections? And why the hell is my mother okay with this? I’m about to ask when the doorbell rings. Giving me a warning look, Mum dashes off to answer the door.

‘I don’t trust you.’

James shoves another drawing pin into the bunting. ‘You’ve made that loud and clear.’ He hops down off the chair and moves it along again. ‘And I get it. I’d be a bit suspicious if some bloke moved in with my grandma without warning, but it isn’t my fault Cordy never mentioned it to you. I assumed she’d told you about me. She’s told me all about you.’ He turns so he can smirk down at me, and I’m tempted to kick the chair over again. There are no witnesses…

‘Cleo! Long time no see.’ Jerry, one of Gran’s oldest friends, strides into the room and pulls me into a too-tight hug that makes my ribs ache. I’m torn between begrudging Jerry’s presence (he can be a bit much) and relief that he’s here and can therefore turf James out on his arse. Although he’s inching towards his nineties, Jerry’s still a sturdy-looking man with broad shoulders and an intimidating height. ‘You must be James. Cordy’s told us all about you.’ Jerry has released me and is looking up at Gran’s new lodger, holding out his hand for him to shake.

For God’s sake. Isn’t anybody else questioning this guy’s motives? I can’t be the only one who was engrossed by The Puppet Master: Hunting the Ultimate Conman on Netflix! This guy has Robert Hendy-Freegard written all over him.

‘Jerry?’ James hops down from the chair and takes his hand. Jerry’s delighted that he’s been identified (how is James doing this?) and he pumps James’ hand up and down until James has to wriggle his hand free. He has to mask his discomfort with a chuckle when Jerry slaps him – audibly – on the shoulder.

‘It’s good to finally meet you.’ He climbs back up onto the chair (out of harm’s way. His shoulder is probably dislocated after Jerry’s overeager greeting).

‘What do you mean by “finally”?’ My eyes narrow as I look up at James. ‘How long have you known Gran?’

‘About a year?’ James shakes a drawing pin from the box onto the worktop. ‘Maybe a bit more.’

‘And how did you meet?’ Gran retired years ago, but she isn’t one for staying in the house. She keeps herself busy with volunteer work: she’s a lollipop lady, works in the local charity shop, and she’s the Brown Owl at the Brownie pack at the church hall. She also dog-walks for an animal shelter and helps to raise funds in any way she can. And on top of all this, she has a better social life than I do. James could have met her anywhere on her travels, but he doesn’t get the chance to answer as Jerry’s wife bursts into the kitchen, bringing a gagging cloud of too much perfume and booze with her.

‘Hello. You must be James.’ Gwen leans against the worktop so she can gaze up at James, her eyes all fluttery and her lips pushed out into a ridiculous pout. She’s actually very pretty, but she masks it with these gormless expressions. ‘Kitty said you were ruggedly handsome.’ She bites her bottom lip as she plays coquettishly with her hair. As well as being the town’s biggest gossip, Gwen’s also Clifton-on-Sea’s biggest flirt. ‘And she was right.’ She giggles while I mime sticking two fingers down my throat. James catches me and I whip my fingers away.

‘Can you give us a hand getting everything ready?’ I grab the packet of balloons and, smiling sweetly, push them into Gwen’s hands. ‘Thank you so much.’

Leaving them to it, I head into the living room and pour myself a glass of wine and drink half of it in one go. A few more of Gran’s friends have arrived and are taking up the sofa and chairs so I stand next to the drinks table. I’m going to need all the booze I can get my hands on to survive an entire evening with Jerry and Gwen, especially if she’s in flirt mode.

‘Everything sorted in the kitchen?’ Mum dashes into the room and heads straight to the window, shifting the blinds to check for any sign of Dad and Gran.

‘Gwen offered to blow up the balloons.’ I smile at Mum, placing a hand on my chest. ‘Such a lovely woman. So helpful.’

Mum’s eyes dart towards Gran’s friends as she scuttles over, leaning in close to me and lowering her voice so it’s barely audible. ‘Those balloons will be filled with gin fumes if she’s blown them up. Keep them away from any naked flames.’

I raise my wine glass in acknowledgement of the instruction, but pause before I take a sip. ‘Did you describe James as ruggedly handsome ?’ I force the last two words out and try not to choke on them.

‘Well, he is.’ Mum shrugs and heads back to the window, pulling the blind aside so she can peer out on to the street. She suddenly jumps in the air, her arms flapping about as she makes a strangled squeaking noise. ‘They’re here! Reggie and Cordy are here!’ She flaps a bit more as she dashes across the room and throws herself out of the door. When she returns, she ushers James, Jerry and Gwen into the room, shushing everyone and instructing me and James to hide. Gran’s friends are excused from concealing themselves behind pot plants and squeezing behind furniture (which makes it pointless for the rest of us to do so, but Mum insists). I’m planning to slot myself between the sofa and bookcase but James has beaten me to it. There isn’t time to find another hiding space – I can hear the front door clicking shut and Gran’s muffled voice as she moves along the hallway. I’m going to have to squash myself onto the sofa with Gran’s friends and try to blend.

‘Quick.’

My hand is tugged suddenly, and for the second time today, I find myself taking a tumble. This time it isn’t a bush that breaks my fall but James, who caused me to fall down in the first place. Steadying me, he inches back so there’s room for both of us to crouch beside the sofa, a split second before the living room door opens.

‘Surprise!’

It’s Mum who practically screeches the word in her enthusiasm as she pops out from behind the curtains. James and I jump up from our position beside the sofa while the others simply twist in their seats to look up at Gran as we chorus the sentiment.

‘Oh.’ Gran clasps her hands together as she looks around the room at her loved ones, a beam stretched wide across her face. ‘How lovely to see you all. I had no idea. You.’ She points a finger at Dad, but she’s still smiling. ‘No wonder you insisted on all those cups of tea, you devil.’ She hugs her son before moving on to Mum and then Gwen, who’s caught en route to the drinks table.

‘You’ve met James then.’ Gran has made her way around the room, hugging and kissing friends and family before she ends up at the bookcase, where I’ve inadvertently blocked James in. ‘I hope you’ve made him feel welcome.’ Gran places a hand on my cheek. ‘I’m sure you have. You’re a good girl.’

My cheek is hot beneath Gran’s touch, because I haven’t made James feel welcome. But then why should I? I’m looking out for her, because nobody else seems to be up to the task. Mum can’t seem to see past his ‘rugged handsomeness’, Gwen’s making eyes at him from across the room, and Dad doesn’t seem to have clocked that there’s an interloper at the party at all. Can nobody else see how inappropriate this is? What kind of twenty-eight-year-old man moves in with an octogenarian who he isn’t related to? Especially when her actual relatives have never even heard of him until he’s half unpacked his stuff in the guest bedroom?

I’m about to air these musings when I feel a buzzing from my pocket. I have a message. From Paul. Finally .