Книга - When Alice Met Danny

When Alice Met Danny
T A Williams


What's in a name?Devastated after losing her job, eternal pragmatist Alice leaves London for a new start in Devon. It’s there that she meets Danny.Then she meets another Danny.And then she meets Daniel – Danny to his friends…In fact, there seems to be a Danny at every turn! Her neighbour’s a Danny; there’s little baby Danny; there’s a vicar, a windsurfer, even a dog called Danny! And whether it’s laughter, comfort, a flutter of romance or a walk along the beach, they each bring something special to Alice’s new life.You might say it’s a coincidence. Alice certainly would… at first! But when she suddenly risks losing not just one Danny, but all of them, she begins to wonder: might there be more in a name than she ever guessed?Praise for T A Williams:'The ultimate feel-good, capturing read.' - Holly, Girls Love to Read'If you want a nice read, to curl up with on a Saturday afternoon in the garden then this is a book for you.' - Dawn Crooks, Crooks on Books'Within the first couple of pages I knew I was falling head over heels for this book and all the Danny’s within it.' - Ginger Reader 22







Devastated after losing her job, eternal pragmatist Alice leaves London for a new start in Devon. It’s there that she meets Danny.

Then she meets another Danny.

And then she meets Daniel – Danny to his friends…



In fact, there seems to be a Danny at every turn! Her neighbour’s a Danny; there’s little baby Danny; there’s a vicar, a windsurfer, even a dog called Danny! And whether it’s laughter, comfort, a flutter of romance or a walk along the beach, they each bring something special to Alice’s new life.



You might say it’s a coincidence. Alice certainly would… at first! But when she suddenly risks losing not just one Danny, but all of them, she begins to wonder: might there be more in a name than she ever guessed?


Praise for Dirty Minds (#u8f15a643-8242-5252-bd40-8bab36634d9b)

‘I loved the idea for this book. It is written with a dry wit that had me laughing out loud on occasions… [and] turning the pages right till the end.’ 5 stars from CB* (#ulink_6bfa3a1b-0a13-5722-9795-c6da42d15af0)

‘Dirty Minds is a very entertaining story with an intriguing plot. T A Williams manages to hold the reader’s attention not just with his amusing depictions of lust and lingerie, but also with the gradual development of love and affection between the main characters.’ 5 stars from Ian Muirhead* (#ulink_6bfa3a1b-0a13-5722-9795-c6da42d15af0)

‘Those looking for a good read, a good chuckle and a good time… have come to the right place. I look forward to the next title by T A Williams.’ 5 stars from Roger Syrat* (#ulink_6bfa3a1b-0a13-5722-9795-c6da42d15af0)

‘I really enjoyed this book! I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it turned out to be lovely. A group of very different people find themselves writing an erotic novel together, and there is sex drama galore, complete with some really cute love stories.’ 5 stars from Jackie at Goodreads.com



‘Dirty Minds is a very funny story… a story with a real plot, and characters that have that real feel to them.’ 5 stars from Lexxie at unconventionalbookreviews.com

Praise for The Room on the Second Floor

‘Another most enjoyable read from this author. Not too taxing, just a great deal of fun. Put your feet up and have a good read. You’ll find a smile on your face as the plot twists and turns.’ 5 stars from Mike Hoare* (#ulink_6bfa3a1b-0a13-5722-9795-c6da42d15af0)

‘Witty, clever and enthralling. I found myself laughing out loud on numerous occasions’ 5 stars from CB* (#ulink_6bfa3a1b-0a13-5722-9795-c6da42d15af0)

‘Aside from a great story this book is full of memorable characters. It’s also bursting with proper English humour reminiscent of P. G. Wodehouse and Jerome K Jerome.’ 4.5 stars from Sylvia Ashby, www.chicklitreviewsandnews.com







* (#ulink_24790f0f-460e-5b0c-818e-fb5fa11b30bf)Review taken from Amazon


Also by T A Williams (#u8f15a643-8242-5252-bd40-8bab36634d9b):

Dirty Minds

The Room on the Second Floor


When Alice Met Danny



T A Williams







Copyright (#ulink_4937c5fd-0c74-52ad-9fea-528e464ec737)

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2014

Copyright © Trevor Williams 2014

Trevor Williams asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © June 2014 ISBN: 9781472097132

Version date: 2018-07-23


TREVOR WILLIAMS

lives in Devon with his Italian wife. He lived and worked in Switzerland, France and Italy, before returning to run one of the best-known language schools in the UK. He has taught people from all over the world, among them Arab princes, Brazilian beauty queens and Italian billionaires. He speaks a number of languages and has travelled extensively. He has eaten snake, live fish and alligator. A Spanish dog, a Russian bug and a Korean parasite have done their best to eat him in return. He has written historical novels, humorous books and thrillers. His hobby is long-distance cycling, but his passion is writing. You can follow him on Twitter, @TAWilliamsBooks, find him on Facebook: www.facebook.com/TrevorWilliamsBooks (http://www.facebook.com/TrevorWilliamsBooks) or visit his website: www.tawilliamsbooks.com (http://www.tawilliamsbooks.com)


Contents

Cover (#ua181a2fb-1ea9-5c65-adac-ae4360f4ac15)

Blurb (#uf44dac0e-a862-5434-a326-0f432e734cd7)

Praise (#ua93ebde0-1b01-5188-9a87-3d25a8a78675)

Book List

Title Page (#u0208342b-507b-5668-888b-9c023148fca9)

Copyright (#ulink_31b2552d-bb9b-566b-be66-4a749a2d9962)

Author Bio (#u1b8d4678-216d-5db9-9d7d-0b39af9077eb)

Acknowledgement (#u69b3e57a-5f61-5f52-b4fb-f19a1b30ca8e)

Dedication (#ubf772d61-3046-50bc-b748-fec8d4e55ba2)

Chapter 1 (#ulink_9469fee9-8eb4-5cb1-a357-1b3cba8f5ce8)

Chapter 2 (#ulink_2d85bee9-1ed6-5bb8-a13a-5ce459b09c86)

Chapter 3 (#ulink_37c24761-5f12-56f8-b58b-3c0e41b16b8c)

Chapter 4 (#ulink_939782e5-7333-5baa-bf09-d2590c6f3122)

Chapter 5 (#ulink_39d69f77-7437-5467-9574-8e3684d5dea4)

Chapter 6 (#ulink_34592738-cd2f-5aba-8c06-b80257a3cbc4)

Chapter 7 (#ulink_4f0a3c9f-2ded-5e84-82a1-4efb152c57b1)

Chapter 8 (#ulink_3976454e-be43-56cd-8c1f-414652419b5d)

Chapter 9 (#ulink_7578d6b2-f5cb-54de-bb37-e8b4f5767602)

Chapter 10 (#ulink_fa404582-3647-5b7a-bc31-93b4386d2c74)

Chapter 11 (#ulink_74d6deb4-14bd-505e-8606-d812dc5068ec)

Chapter 12 (#ulink_0d1aa827-51dc-5844-b494-0360e6ebb3a4)

Chapter 13 (#ulink_3f98ab51-5a0a-5b3c-84ee-3eac91c73374)

Chapter 14 (#ulink_c8e6c744-280c-5d90-b52c-d7ebc6f1933e)

Chapter 15 (#ulink_6fb61af9-a529-5a0b-a22a-be42248a5c94)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 36 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 37 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 38 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 39 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 40 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 41 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 42 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 43 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 44 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 45 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 46 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 47 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 48 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 49 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 50 (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)

Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


With thanks, as ever, to my editor, Clio Cornish.


To Mariangela and Christina, with love


Chapter 1 (#ulink_74251f6c-bc14-5332-ba0e-16640b71253f)

‘So, you see, we have no choice but to make cuts.’ All she could do was stare at him across the huge slab of glass that served as his desk. She was still trying to take in the significance of what he had told her.

‘You mean, we are going bust?’

‘Well, that’s a very emotive way of putting it.’ He gave a slight grimace. ‘Of course the firm is still financially viable. All that we have to do is make a few cuts and economies.’

‘Starting with me?’ It was beginning to sink in.

‘We thought it better to prune a few of the high earners, rather than chop away a whole host of lower paid staff.’ He could see from her face that she had understood. ‘Of course, we will be offering a very generous severance package.’

She just sat there. Of all the things she had expected Nigel to want to discuss at this morning’s meeting, her dismissal had certainly not been among them. ‘But the Tianjin contract?’ She had only just got them that. ‘It’s worth twenty-three million for crying out loud. Doesn’t that justify keeping me on?’

‘I know, Alice, I know. And if it were up to me, you would be the last to go. I put up a good fight for you, you know.’ He glanced hopefully in her direction, but stopped short of meeting her eye. ‘But the decision has been made at board level. It’s out of my hands.’

She stood up. Her mind was whirling. Out of his hands? For a moment she had a powerful urge to overturn the glass desk into his lap, but she took a deep breath and headed for the door.

‘Alice, I’ll see that you get details of our severance offer. It is a very, very good package. You won’t have to worry about money for a long time to come.’ He stood up and attempted a smile. ‘Think of it as an opportunity for a complete change.’

‘Nigel.’ She spun round and looked hard at him. He instinctively took two steps backwards. ‘I came here straight from university. I’ve given G&B seventeen years of my life. This is my life. And now you are offering me the opportunity to change? To what, Nigel, to what?’ Before he could attempt a reply, she turned on her heel and left the office, resisting the impulse to slam the door behind her.

She walked across the hallway in a daze. She pressed the button and waited the few seconds that it took for the lift to arrive. The doors hissed open and she saw it was empty. She felt a sense of relief. As the doors closed behind her, she came as close to crying as she had ever done in her professional life. In the few seconds it took the lift to drop smoothly down to the fifteenth floor, she had time to collect herself. Or at least to try.

As she stepped out, she saw Danny waiting to get in. Something in her face told him all was far from well. He ignored the open doors and gave her a smile. ‘All well up in the realm of the gods?’ She made no reply as the doors slid shut behind her. She just stood there, as if uncertain what to do next. Indecision from Alice was so unusual as to be worrying. For a moment he wondered if she were ill. ‘Alice, are you all right?’

‘I’m fine, Danny.’ But she clearly wasn’t. As she set off towards her office, he turned and walked alongside her. By this time he had realised that something major had happened. He accompanied her to her door. She paused, her eyes fixed on the sign: Alice Grant. After a few moments, she stirred, shook her head and went inside. He followed her and closed the door behind them. She stopped by the window and stood there, staring out over the grey waters of the Thames far below. She looked like she needed a hug. He thought long and hard, but then restrained himself. He did, however, walk up close to her and lay a hand on her arm.

‘What is it, Alice? What’s happened?’ His voice was deeply concerned.

So she told him.


Chapter 2 (#ulink_3c0e2980-0ffe-5499-968a-fc4dfab420e9)

‘So what are you planning on doing?’ Sally was the closest friend Alice had in London.

‘I’m not really sure.’

‘With your track record, surely you could just walk into any number of other well-paid jobs, couldn’t you?’

Alice nodded absently. ‘Mm. I suppose so. I’m just not sure I want to go back into that world again. It’s all about money, money, money. There’s no loyalty, no trust; just profit. I think I’d be better off out of it.’

‘How far out of it, Al?’

‘A long way, I think. Ever since I got the news, I’ve been mulling over what that slimy toad Nigel said to me. He called it an opportunity for a complete change. Although I still think he’s a despicable reptile, or should that be amphibian, I’m coming round to thinking he may be right.’

Sally caught the waiter’s eye and pointed to the empty bottle. It was going to be a long evening. ‘I’ll tell you this, Al, you could do worse. Try living like a normal girl instead of a career woman for a change. Get yourself a social life again. Meet a few nice people, cultivate a selection of eligible bachelors, jump into bed with some of them. That should take your mind off things.’

The waiter returned with another bottle of Pinot Grigio. Sally waited until he had retired before continuing. ‘Sex, my girl, that’s what you need. That’ll take your mind off things.’

Alice looked up, a hint of a smile on her face. ‘Sex, Sally, that’s your answer to everything.’

‘Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.’

‘Of course I’ve tried it.’ Alice sounded piqued. ‘I had a whole heap of boyfriends at university.’

‘And that was… fifteen, sixteen years ago?’ Sally kept her voice gentle.

‘Seventeen, but who’s counting? Anyway, I’ve been out with men since then. All right, nobody really special, and no long term relationships, but I was working so hard.’

‘That’s the whole point, Alice, it’s time to think of yourself, not just G-and-bloody-B. Isn’t there something you would really like to do? Apart from having sex with some young stud, of course.’

Alice sipped her wine. Alcohol wasn’t going to be the answer. And neither was sex. She allowed herself a moment’s reflection. Sally was right, of course. She really had sacrificed her personal life for her career. Not that she had lived an entirely monastic life. There had been men, admittedly not that many, but her job had always been her first priority. Now she could change all that.

‘Do you know what I’d really like to do?’ Sally looked up with interest, pleased to see a smile on her face. ‘I’m thinking about going back to university.’

‘What, as a postgrad?’ Sally sounded genuinely surprised.

‘Yes, I thought I might try and do a Masters.’

‘Something to do with finance? An MBA, maybe?’

Alice shook her head. ‘Nothing to do with work. No, something very, very different.’

‘Such as?’

Alice gave her a smile. ‘History. Don’t laugh. I’ve always been interested in history.’

Sally looked surprised. ‘So what period of history?’

Alice began to look less sure of herself. ‘I don’t really know. I’ve been reading all sorts. Everything from the Egyptians to the Cold War. There’s got to be something in between that gets my juices flowing.’

‘While on that subject, Al, there is always my original suggestion.’ Sally gave her a wink. ‘And by the sound of it, your experience of the opposite sex is back in the realms of history, so you’d be killing two birds with one stone.’

‘Oh, Sally, there’s more to life than sex.’

‘Certainly in your life.’

‘I’ll find myself a man, don’t you worry.’ She glanced across the table. ‘Maybe a handsome young student with a six pack.’

‘So somebody half your age? You’re almost forty, Al. You could be done for cradle snatching. Anyway, from what I remember of university, the only six packs I came across were the ones containing beer.’

‘Anyway, I’ve got to get there first.’

‘Where’s there? Are you going to stay here in London? Or are you thinking of pastures new? Maybe a little thatched cottage in the country?’ She was joking, but she spotted something on Alice’s face. ‘Really? You want to bury yourself in the country, among the yokels?’

‘I was thinking of Devon, actually. And Exeter is one of the best universities in the country, or so they say.’

‘Wow, that’s radical. So you really fancy abandoning the bright lights of the city? And Devon? They’re still eating the missionaries down there, you know.’

Alice gave her a smile. ‘I’ll take my chances. Anyway, I’ll need to find a house first.’


Chapter 3 (#ulink_a3ff2a34-1400-58e8-8364-4ba9817878ee)

‘A house in the country?’ Danny was doing his best to sound positive, although he was still reeling at the news that she was leaving London.

‘I think so. I’ve got my eye on Devon. We used to go on holiday down there when I was little. It has happy memories for me.’ She was still holding the envelope that he had brought from the office. Alongside her name and address, there were the words: Strictly Private and Confidential. By hand of courier.

His eyes flicked down to it. ‘Nigel told me to tell you it’s a really good deal.’

‘What would he know about a good deal?’ She allowed herself a snort of derision. ‘I’ve closed more deals than he’s had expense account lunches.’

‘We are all so sorry you have had to leave.’ He decided to take a chance. ‘And I’m very sorry indeed. It won’t be the same without you.’

‘Thanks, Danny. I’m going to miss you, too.’ She failed to spot the flash of disappointment on his face as she added, ‘All of you on the fifteenth floor.’

He rallied himself. ‘So have you found a house yet? And what about this place?’ Her flat was in a lovely old house, halfway up a narrow backstreet in Greenwich. It was the first time he had ever been inside, although he had once walked past and wondered what it was like. When Nigel had asked for a volunteer to deliver the envelope, he hadn’t hesitated.

‘I’ve only just started looking. I’ve been checking out the property websites. Prices in Devon are a lot lower than London prices.’ She nodded towards the envelope. ‘So, depending on what this says, I’ll either sell up and buy or maybe keep this place on and rent it.’ He perked up.

‘Listen, Alice, if you decide to keep it and rent it out, I would be very interested. It’s a gorgeous place and so very close to work. Would that be all right?’

‘That sounds great.’ She hesitated, looking a bit dubious. ‘It isn’t very big, you know. Are you sure you’d have room?’

‘Loads, Alice. There’s just me. Nobody else, no pets, not even a goldfish. And I should be able to afford to pay the rent. G&B are spending a lot on IT at the moment.’

She was on the point of making a rude retort about them having money to spend on computers, rather than on real people like her, but she stopped herself. It wasn’t Danny’s fault, after all. And he was a real person. How funny that he wasn’t married. He was quite good-looking, really.

‘Have you tried looking for property on auction sites?’ His voice interrupted her train of thought.

‘What, online auctions?’

‘Not exactly. These days there are more and more auctions, real auctions, where people can bid over the internet or by telephone, if they can’t be physically present. You can view all the lots from the comfort of your desk and then bid at a distance.’ He glanced around the room. ‘If you’ve got a computer here, I can show you a few if you are interested.’

‘I’d like that, Danny. Here, take a seat while I grab the laptop.’

They sat down together and he introduced her to a variety of property auction sites. In particular, they found one close to Exeter. He clicked on the icon.

‘Next sale…catalogue…look, there’s a sale next week.’ He could feel her warmth beside him. He did his best to concentrate on the screen. ‘Wow, look at this. There are eighty properties going under the hammer. Why not take a look at some of those. You can sometimes get real bargains at auction.’

She started clicking through the list, astounded to see some with a guide price of less than the cost of her new kitchen. She shot him a quick glance. ‘I’ll make some tea in a minute if you like. Do you want to take a look around the place in the meantime? You might as well check to see if it could suit you.’

He got up and wandered round the flat. There was this wonderful large living room, with a dining table to one side. The view from the window, over old slate roofs, was towards trees and parkland. The ultra modern kitchen was through an arch and looked like the inside of a space capsule. Not without difficulty, he located the electric kettle and filled it. While it heated up, he continued his tour of inspection. The bedroom and bathroom were spectacular. The bed was stainless steel, the sheets crisp and white. It was like something out of a glossy magazine. Shelves of clothes and rows of shoes gave it an air of intimacy, as did the blouse lying across the bed. He thought he could distinguish the imprint of her head on the pillow. He gave a silent sigh. He was still looking down at it when he heard her voice.

‘What do you think?’ Her voice echoed through the flat.

He returned to the living room. She had left the computer and was in the kitchen, making tea. He glanced at the screen. There was a pretty, red-brick terraced house for sale with a guide price of less than a hundred thousand. He gawped. The same house around here would be closer to half a million. Alongside the keyboard he saw that she had opened the letter from Nigel. She had tucked it back into the envelope again. He found himself hoping desperately that it would be sufficient for her to be able to keep the flat and rent it to him.

‘Afraid I haven’t got any biscuits.’ She reappeared with two mugs of tea. ‘If I had them in the house I would only end up eating them. Just because I’m unemployed, I don’t intend to slob out on the sofa.’

She looked, as ever, utterly gorgeous. He risked a compliment. ‘I can’t imagine you as anything remotely resembling a slob. You always look fantastic.’

Her head jerked up. That sounded remarkably like a compliment. Mind you, she thought to herself, he’s probably just trying to cheer me up. She kept her tone light. ‘A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.’

He did his best not to think of either her lips or her hips. He turned his attention to the laptop and pointed at an address on the screen. ‘See that? Beauchamp-by-the-Sea, I know that place. Did you know the locals pronounce it “Beecham”? It’s got a lovely sandy beach. Good for windsurfing, if you’re ever interested.’

She concentrated on the house agents’ blurb. ‘It’s in East Devon. That’s an area of outstanding natural beauty. I like the sound of that.’

He took a good look at the description of a terraced house. ‘It says here this one is in need of total refurbishment. Are you ready for a bit of DIY?’

She took a sip of her tea. ‘Do you know, Danny, I think I am. Something physical might be just what I need after years sitting in an office. I know what I’ll do, I’ll buy something in Devon that needs to be refurbished. In the meantime I’ll rent a place down there, so I’m not living in the midst of a building site.’ Happy with her decision, she pointed to the letter on the desk. He was pleased to see her smiling. ‘You can tell Nigel that he was right. It is a good severance package they have offered me. So, Danny, if you want it, this flat is yours. I’ll find out what the going rental rate is and send you an e-mail. OK?’

He jumped to his feet and extended his hand. ‘It’s a deal. Shake on it?’

She took his hand. ‘It’s a deal.’


Chapter 4 (#ulink_1371cedd-8f02-5485-a488-c71680067f68)

‘So you bought it without viewing it first?’ Sally was aghast.

Alice looked a bit sheepish. ‘It was at auction, and it was so very cheap. I thought I’d got nothing to lose.’ In fact, she acknowledged to herself, she had been caught up in auction fever. Although she had registered, she had only intended to view the different lots as they went under the hammer. But then when this one had appeared for so little, she had decided to put in a bid. To her surprise, nobody else had followed, and she was now the owner of a terraced house in East Devon.

‘So what are you going to do now?’ Sally still sounded very dubious.

‘I suppose I’d better go down and take a look at it. Then I’ve got to pay for it. Plus I’ve got to arrange insurance and all that stuff. I suppose I’d better get it surveyed as well. While I’m at it, I could look for a place to rent until the other one is finished.’ She swilled the last of the cappuccino around in her cup before swallowing it. ‘I don’t suppose you fancy a trip to Devon sometime soon?’

‘I’d love to, Al, but I’ve got my boys to look after.’ Her boys were two Yorkshire terriers and a husband. ‘If I take Cain and Abel on the train, they’ll probably throw up. Come to think of it, Adam might throw up as well.’

‘How is your perfect man?’ Alice had always liked the big, quiet man that Sally had married. For a while they had even tried to set Alice up with his brother, but to no effect. She had always been far too busy.

‘My perfect man is no doubt sitting in a fire station somewhere, rubbing baby lotion on his muscular body after rescuing a few old ladies and a pussy cat.’ Her eyes became positively misty before she returned to the real world. ‘As for Adam, he’s fine. He’s joined a gym because he reckons he’s getting a bit porky.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Between you and me, he’s right. Anyway, how about you and men? Any on your radar, now that you’ve got the time to dedicate yourself to their pursuit?’

‘I haven’t had time, yet. First things first, I need to get my new life on track. Then I can think about men.’

‘What about that tall boy from your office?’ Alice looked blank, so Sally elaborated. ‘You know, the one you introduced me to in that pub that time.’

‘You’re going to have to be a good bit more precise, Sal.’

‘Tall, blond, good-looking, races yachts or something.’

The penny dropped. ‘You mean Danny, Danny Kemp. He doesn’t race yachts. At least, I don’t think so. He does a lot of windsurfing, though. And, no, he’s just a friend.’

‘A handsome one.’ Sally was doing her best to get Alice fired up.

‘I can’t say I’ve noticed.’ That wasn’t strictly true. Only the other day it had occurred to her, but theirs was now a business relationship. ‘Actually, he’s renting my flat from me once I move out.’

‘With his bronzed Australian windsurfing girlfriend?’

‘Not so far as I know. He says he lives on his own. At least, that’s what he told me.’

‘What a waste.’ Sally glanced at her watch. ‘Well, got to go. I dare say you’ll find yourself somebody suitable once you are down among the haystacks. I can see you in a few months’ time, plucking cows, milking chickens…’

‘Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.’


Chapter 5 (#ulink_977513db-257a-5d94-81d5-0e07cf1b27d3)

Alice rented herself a car from the station at Exeter. Buses to and from Beauchamp-by-the-Sea appeared to be few and far between. She made a mental note to add a car to her shopping list, when the time came to move out of London.

After threading her way out through the traffic, she soon found herself in the Devon countryside. Easter was approaching and the fields and banks were peppered with daffodils and primroses. The sky was bright blue, the forecast good. She opened a window and breathed deeply. Maybe this change was the right thing at the right time of her life. She felt happier than she had for a long time. This mild euphoria lasted until she reached the offices of the estate agents responsible for the auction.

‘All I can say, Ms Grant, is that you are a brave woman. We have been describing number 23 to everybody as “not for the faint-hearted”. I’m glad you did not find it too off-putting.’ Mr Melhuish, of ‘Melhuish, Melhuish and Seymour’, was a charming man with a florid complexion and a taste for tweed suiting. He emerged triumphant from the key cabinet. ‘Here we are, the keys. Or rather, I should say, the key. We only found the one. None of us managed to make it through to the back door to see if there was a key in the door, but you will find that out for yourself.’

Alice’s expression had moved from surprise to concern by this time. The penny was beginning to drop that there might, after all, be a good reason why there had been no other bidders.

‘If you could just give me directions to the house, please.’ She signed the forms he thrust at her. He looked up in surprise.

‘You don’t know your way there? Do you mean to say you haven’t seen the house?’ He looked bewildered. She just looked embarrassed.

‘Erm, no. You see, I bought in online. Did I do wrong?’ Alice was getting seriously cold feet by this time. ‘Is there something awful about it?’

Mr Melhuish did his best to reassure her, but she could see that he wasn’t finding it easy. ‘Well, you see, it’s like this. The lady who owned the house was a bit peculiar.’ From the way his eyes rolled, this was clearly a considerable understatement. ‘She has since been put into a home where they can look after her. The sale was all done through the local authority to fund her care. You see, she wasn’t what you might call a good householder.’

Alice felt her spirits fall even lower.

He attempted a smile and some encouragement. ‘It’s a good little house, in a lovely position. Once you’ve got it cleared out and refurbished, I’m sure you’ll find it just splendid. I’ve got friends in Lyndhurst Avenue. They all love it there.’ He eased her towards the door. ‘Anyway, it’s easy to find. Turn left, go straight along this street for a few hundred yards and you’ll find Lyndhurst Avenue off to your right. Number 23 is down there on the left. Five minutes and you’ll be there.’

Alice thanked him. As an afterthought struck her, she turned back. ‘Would you be able to give me the name of a good surveyor? Maybe some builders too?’

‘Of course, Ms Grant, you can count on me. And –’ he caught her eye, ‘– I know some very good industrial cleaners.’

Oh dear, she thought to herself as she set off down the road, what have I got myself into?

She discovered the answer to that question less than five minutes later. Lyndhurst Avenue was a charming street, just as Mr Melhuish had told her. The rows of mellow late Victorian houses curved gently down towards the river at the end. Beyond that, a steep hill sloped sharply up to the observatory at the top. The pavements were clear and clean, the houses smart and well looked after. All except number 23.

‘Oh my God.’ She couldn’t stop herself. Her hand shot up to her mouth, but not before she had groaned out loud. A lady with a spaniel on a lead looked across the road at her in concern. Alice ignored her, totally riveted by the apparition before her.

‘Oh, no.’

The front gardens were little more than narrow strips. Whereas all the other houses had filled theirs with flowers and bushes, or at least slabs or gravel, number 23 was a heap of junk. And not just a small heap. The pile of rubbish completely obliterated any view those in the front room might have got. She leant up against the window and peered through the grubby glass. The inside mirrored the outside. The room was packed with an impenetrable wall of stuff.

‘Pretty grim, eh?’ Alice jumped at the sound of the voice. It was the lady with the spaniel. She had crossed the street. ‘You were looking a bit upset, so I thought I’d come over and ask if everything’s all right.’

‘Oh, thank you. That’s very kind.’ She was a friendly-looking lady, who appeared to be in her seventies. Alice did her best to sound positive. ‘Everything’s fine, thank you. At least, I think so…’ Her voice tailed off as she paused, uncertain how or whether to continue.

‘You poor thing.’ The old lady’s eyes were fixed on the key in Alice’s hand. ‘Have you bought this place?’

Alice nodded miserably.

‘Well, you’ll certainly have your work cut out here, no doubt about it.’ Seeing the look of desperation on Alice’s face, she did her best to offer support. ‘But it’ll all work out, you’ll see. Are you going to be all right now?’

Alice collected herself. ‘Yes, thank you. Thank you very much. And I’m Alice, by the way.’

‘Joyce Parker from number 44. Just come and bang on the door if you need anything.’ She gave a cheery wave and set off with the dog once more.

Alice pushed the key into the rusty lock. The paintwork alongside it was greasy with accumulated filth. The key turned surprisingly easily and she pushed it open. The door soon came up against an immovable obstacle and stopped. She stuck her head round the edge and made two discoveries. First, the hall was filled from top to bottom with piles of old newspapers and cardboard boxes. Second, the smell in there was absolutely overpowering. She whipped her head back outside again, desperately blowing the infected air from her lungs. It smelt like a long-dead corpse. Or at least what she imagined a long-dead corpse might smell like. She came very close to vomiting as she recoiled away and slumped down on the low brick wall.

‘You poor thing.’

For a moment she thought Joyce Parker from number 44 had come back. She half-turned. Instead, she saw a friendly-looking younger woman, holding a little baby, standing in the doorway next door. They exchanged glances.

‘Just been inside, have you?’ She gave Alice a gentle smile.

‘Only my nose, but that was enough.’ If the other woman hadn’t been there, Alice would have cleared her throat and spat on the ground. As it was, she burrowed in her bag for a mint. She took one and offered the packet. The other woman shook her head.

‘You look as if you could do with a cup of tea.’

Alice gave her a grateful nod. ‘Anything to get rid of that smell.’

‘Come on in.’ Alice walked back out onto the pavement and along to the next-door gate. The woman ushered her inside. It was a cosy house. There were toys on a sheet on the lounge floor and a huge stockpile of disposable nappies behind the kitchen door.

‘Hello. I’m Vicky. And this little bundle of joy is Daniel. Do have a seat. Do I presume you are the brave person who has bought the loony lady’s house?’ She filled the kettle and turned it on with one experienced hand, while the other still clutched the child.

‘Wrong adjective, I’m afraid. I’m the stupid person. No bravery at all. My name is Alice Grant. Thanks for taking me in.’

‘Why stupid, Alice?’ The little child had fixed Alice with a steady and slightly unnerving stare. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

‘I committed the cardinal sin of buying it online, without coming to see it.’ She snorted in exasperation. ‘And I thought I was a pretty canny sort of person.’

‘Do you want to hang onto Danny for a moment? He’s being a bit grouchy. I’ll just make the tea.’ Alice didn’t have much experience with little children but, before she could put up any sort of objection, Vicky had passed the baby across. She took him gingerly. The child turned towards her and stared hard into her eyes. Alice could see that he was debating whether to bawl the house down. She surprised herself by bending her head towards him and kissing his cheek noisily, while murmuring something incomprehensible. The baby gave a delighted gurgle and treated her to a toothless smile. She sat back up, stunned by the emergence of this hitherto unsuspected maternal instinct.

‘You’ve got a fan there.’ Vicky poured two mugs of tea and set them on the table while the little boy continued to beam up at Alice. ‘The house must have come as a bit of a shock to the system. You looked as white as a sheet back there.’

Alice took the tea with a grateful smile. ‘Thanks. It certainly was a shock. And then there was the smell. It positively reeks.’ She caught Vicky’s eye. ‘You don’t think there’s a dead body in there, do you?’

She got a broad smile in return. ‘No, definitely not. There would be no space for a body to fit in there. Have you seen the piles of rubbish everywhere?’

Somewhat reassured, Alice decided to see how much information she could elicit. ‘So what’s the story, Vicky? Who is – was – the loony lady?’

‘Mary Browning. That’s her name. I’ve only been here since last summer, but my landlord told me all about her. He and his wife lived here for ten years before that and she had already been living here for a good while. When they moved in, she was almost normal, but she went downhill very fast.’

‘What does “almost normal” mean?’ Alice found she was enjoying the feel of the little baby in her arms.

‘Well, they said there were already piles of rubble and rocks in the garden, but the house was reasonably uncluttered. Over the next few years the garden turned into a disaster area. You haven’t seen it yet? You’ll see what I mean when you go round the back. Then it was the turn of the house. She started hoarding stuff until it got like it is today.’ She looked across at Alice. ‘To be honest, that’s why I managed to get this house at a decent rent. Nobody wanted to live next to her.’

‘So what’s causing the smell? Surely it’s more than just dirt?’

Vicky wrinkled her face and gave an embarrassed cough. ‘I’m afraid it’s much, much more than just dirt.’ Seeing that Alice still hadn’t twigged, she found herself obliged to spell it out. ‘The men from the council who came to take her away told me her bathroom was packed solid with junk. Nobody could get into it. So she had no toilet. She had to store everything in the house.’

‘You mean, the house is full of poo?’ Hearing the tone of her voice, the little boy stopped smiling and wriggled. Absentmindedly, Alice kissed him again and he settled down.

‘Last autumn she started dumping it in the back alley. Then she started pouring it onto Lyndhurst Avenue. That was when we called the Environmental Health people.’ She looked up in annoyance. ‘And you know what they said? If you or I were to go out in the street and pee in the middle of the road, we would be committing an offence.’

Alice shrugged her shoulders in agreement.

‘But, if you pee in your own home and then take it out and pour it on a public highway, that’s not illegal. It goes back to medieval times.’

‘Oh, dear Lord, so how did you get her out?’

‘Shortly after that, last winter, she started pouring the stuff,’ she was looking embarrassed now, ‘and I’m not just talking about pee, over the walls into the gardens along the back lane, mine included. The council put up a closed circuit camera and caught her in the act. Well, a number of acts to be honest.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Not nice at all. Anyway, as a result, she was sectioned and removed.’

The little boy had closed his eyes by this time and was drifting off to sleep. Vicky nodded approvingly. ‘Sorry it’s an unpleasant shock for you. But for me it’s wonderful to find that the place is finally going to be cleaned up. And, the fact that the developer is a talented childminder is an added bonus. Danny will be very pleased to see you again. Have you got kids of your own?’

Alice shook her head. ‘No, not yet.’ No sooner had she said it than she found herself wondering why she had used the word “yet”. ‘I’ve been working in London since I left uni. This is the start of my new life.’ Her eyes flicked over in the direction of the dividing wall. ‘Although I didn’t really expect it to start in a house full of poo.


Chapter 6 (#ulink_6300d248-2708-5f91-915f-e33690164ac7)

Alice found accommodation for the night in a charming little bed & breakfast, located in the village of Woodcombe, only a few miles out of town. It was called Drake Cottage. She received a warm welcome from the elderly lady owner. The room was spacious and clean, with a view out over the well-kept back garden to the fields beyond. A young black Labrador was wandering round outside, sniffing the bushes.

‘This is a lovely room, Mrs Tinker. Am I your only guest tonight?’

‘I’m glad you like it, my dear. I only have the one room now. I used to take up to four or five, but it’s too much work for me now. I’m just glad to have the company from time to time.’

‘Is that your dog out there?’ Alice loved the garden and the countryside views.

‘That’s Danny. He’s still a youngster, but he’s a very good dog. Do you have a dog yourself?’

Alice reflected for a moment that she had now been asked if she had a child and a pet, both in the same day. Did this mean that fate was somehow trying to get her to settle down? And a dog and a child with the same name? This reminded her of the other Danny, who would be moving into her London flat in two weeks’ time. Hopefully he wouldn’t pee on any plants. She smiled at the thought.

‘No, we had a cat when I was growing up, but I don’t know much about dogs.’

‘Well, if you want to come down for a cup of tea once you’ve settled in, I’ll introduce you to him.’

When Alice had opened her bag and hung a few things in the wardrobe, she went back down the stairs. Mrs Tinker was waiting at the kitchen door.

‘Come in here, my dear. It’s warmer by the Aga.’

The kitchen was indeed very cosy. The old range heated the room to a very comfortable temperature. As Alice walked in, the black dog climbed out of his wicker basket and trotted over to say hello. Alice hesitated, unused to dogs and a bit afraid of such a big animal. She stopped dead and pressed her hands nervously against her sides while the dog sniffed her.

Mrs Tinker saw her discomfort. ‘Danny, come back here and leave Alice alone.’ The dog turned away as he heard the call and returned to his mistress. ‘That’s a good boy. Now lie down in your basket and leave the lady alone.’ She stroked his head affectionately and then pointed towards the wicker basket. The dog did as instructed. Alice was impressed.

‘You’ve got him well-trained already.’

‘That’s Labs for you. Give them food and they’ll do anything you ask. I dare say I could get him to play the piano if I had a few spare joints of beef. Now, how do you take your tea?’

Mrs Tinker gave her a key to the front door. As she handed it over, she winked. ‘But if you should forget it, I never lock the back door. Well, apart from at night, of course.’

Alice looked up in surprise. ‘But aren’t you afraid of burglars?’

‘I’ve lived in this house for over sixty years without anything happening to me. Woodcombe’s a safe place to live. It’s not like London here, you know.’

They sat and chatted. Alice learned that the village pub, the King’s Arms, served good food. And it was only a few minutes’ walk from the house. She resolved to eat there that evening. The conversation turned to Alice’s reasons for being in Devon. Uncomfortably, she related the story of the house in Lyndhurst Avenue. Mrs Tinker was appalled.

‘I’ve never heard anything like it. How could somebody behave like that? You poor thing.’

‘It’s my own fault, Mrs Tinker. If I hadn’t been so stupid as to buy the place without viewing it, I wouldn’t be in this pickle now.’

‘How were you to know? Really!’ She couldn’t believe it. ‘And you were planning on moving in there yourself?’

‘Well, not immediately. I knew there would be a lot of work to be done first. The agents’ particulars made it clear that it needed complete refurbishment.’

Mrs Tinker was clearly relieved. ‘So, are you going back to London, or are you going to stay down here while the work takes place? Chocolate Hobnob?’ She pushed the packet across the table. A black shadow materialised at Alice’s side. Mournful brown eyes gazed upwards. As Alice took each bite of the biscuit, she felt the dog’s eyes trained on her.

‘Don’t mind Danny. He knows he never gets food off the table, but he tries it on with newcomers. Just ignore him.’

Alice swallowed the last piece and sensed an immediate drop in interest from the floor. She washed it down with a mouthful of tea. ‘I have to go back on Friday, but my plan is to look around for a little place to rent for a few months, while the work gets done.’ She reflected for a moment. ‘Now that I’ve seen the place, I would imagine we are talking about quite a few months.’ She looked round the comfortable kitchen. ‘I don’t suppose I could stay here for six months?’

‘I can do better than that.’ Mrs Tinker set down her mug. She was smiling. ‘Much better. You remember I told you I used to have more guests?’ Alice nodded. ‘Well, you see, I used to put them next door. I own both halves of the cottage. There’s this half with two bedrooms upstairs and there’s next door. It’s sort of a mirror image of this place. Since my George died, I don’t need the space, so it’s just been mothballed, so to speak. Would you like to take a look?’

Alice jumped to her feet. For the first time that day, she began to feel a bit more optimistic. Together, they went out of the back door and through a gate in the fence. The dog was left in the kitchen. Mrs Tinker pulled a key from her apron pocket and opened the back door.

‘Welcome to Duck Cottage.’ She ushered Alice inside. ‘Mine is called Drake Cottage. We didn’t name them. They’ve always been called that. Now, don’t be put off by the chill in here. I can soon get it tidied up, heating on and warm as toast.’

Alice followed her round the little cottage, delighted with everything she saw in there, from the woodburning stove in the lounge to the modern bathroom next to the main bedroom. And the views were, if anything, even better than from next door.

Mrs Tinker tapped the wall behind the bed head. ‘Your bedroom for tonight’s just the other side of there.’ She led her back down the steep little stairway. ‘Well, what do you think?’

‘I love it, Mrs Tinker. It’s exactly the sort of place I was dreaming of.’

‘I’m glad you like it. I’m sure you’ll be comfortable there.’ She led Alice back into her cottage. As they walked in, both of them got a friendly nuzzle from the dog. Alice surprised herself by finding it quite natural to pat his head as he did so. Children and dogs in one day?

‘Now let me see.’ Mrs Tinker sat down again and did some mental arithmetic. After a few moments, she went on to name a rental figure that was less than half what the two-legged Danny would be paying for the use of the London flat. Alice lost no time in accepting.

‘You’ve no idea how happy I am, Mrs Tinker. I thought this was one of the worst days of my life, but I’m feeling an awful lot better now. Now all I need is a good builder. Oh yes, and a surveyor, and a cleaning company with a strong stomach.’ She realised with a start that she was scratching the big dog behind his ear, while he grunted with satisfaction. She carried on in amazement. ‘I don’t suppose you know any good builders?’

‘I can do better than that, my dear.’ Mrs Tinker was enjoying her role as Alice’s saviour. ‘I can introduce you to my nephew. He’s a surveyor, and a good one, I can assure you. And he knows all the builders in the area.’

‘Mrs Tinker, you’re a marvel.’

‘I’m just glad I can be of assistance.’


Chapter 7 (#ulink_e947d7e0-eaea-5603-908d-336628a7ed37)

The King’s Arms was almost empty at six o’clock. The young man behind the bar was friendly and attentive, and the food menu impressive. She ordered the mixed seafood platter and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. A sign outside had boasted the existence of free wifi, so she took a table in the corner and pulled out her iPad.

A check of her e-mails revealed one from Nigel, congratulating her on accepting the severance package and repeating his regrets at the board’s decision. She deleted it with a smile. There was also one from Danny. Two-legged Danny, she thought to herself with a smile. He hoped everything was going well and wondered when she would be back in London. She told him she planned to stay in Devon until the end of the week and gave him a brief summary of the day’s events, doing her best to play down the true state of number 23. She ended by giving him the news that she had already found a house to rent. Just a few moments after she pressed Send, her fish arrived.

She had a very pleasant meal for a fraction of the cost of a similar dish in London, and followed it with a fresh fruit salad. She was just finishing when a man came up to her table.

‘Hello. Sorry to interrupt. I’m Peter. Are you Alice Grant, by any chance? I got a call from Auntie Agnes.’ He was a friendly-looking man, maybe in his late forties. ‘She told me there was a maiden in distress and I had to get myself over here as soon as possible.’ He gave her a smile. ‘So here I am.’

Alice smiled back. ‘She’s a wonder, your aunt. I hope I have even half her energy when I’m that age. Thank you so much for coming. Let me, at least, get you a drink.’ She made to stand up, but he caught her shoulder and pressed her gently back into her seat.

‘Maidens in distress don’t buy drinks. What can I get you?’ He pointed towards her empty glass. ‘Another one of those?’

She sat back and nodded gratefully. ‘This maiden in distress business isn’t as bad as it sounds. That would be lovely.’

When he returned with the drinks, he lost no time in introducing himself properly. ‘Here’s my card. I’m a building surveyor. I do everything from homebuyer surveys to full design and build projects. My aunt tells me you have a refurbishment project in mind.’

‘Slightly more complicated than simple refurbishment, I’m afraid.’ Alice went on to describe the circumstances surrounding her purchase of the house and its present state. She left nothing out, including her stupidity in buying it unseen and the insanitary behaviour of the loony lady. To her surprise, he looked quite unfazed by her revelations.

Noting the expression on her face, he explained. ‘You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve seen over the years. You’ve just finished eating, so I won’t go into graphic detail, but you can believe me when I tell you I’ve seen worse.’

She found that hard to believe, but she felt it better not to pry, not least as she had a full stomach. ‘So, do you think you could help?’

‘Of course. So what exactly would you like me to do?’

‘Well, I suppose I need a survey first. But, in order for you to get in to do the survey, I need to find a firm who can go in and clear the place and disinfect it. I don’t suppose you know who might do that?’

He was nodding. ‘That’s not a problem. There’s a firm in Birmingham who specialise in this sort of thing. I’ve used them before. I’m afraid it won’t be cheap, as they’ll have to send a team down from the Midlands, but they’ll do a good job.’ Alice almost sighed with relief.

‘That’s wonderful. Would you please instruct them to get on to it? And then, once you’ve done the survey, I’d like you to draw up a list of the things that need to be done to return it to a decent, habitable state. And then it’ll be a matter of finding builders and so on…’ Her voice tailed off as she thought about the extent of the job ahead. He was quick to reassure her.

‘Don’t worry, once it’s all cleaned out, you and I can go in and take a good look round and decide just what needs to be done. If there’s anything that needs planning permission or Building Control consent I can make these applications on your behalf. OK?’

‘Absolutely.’ Alice felt as if a very heavy weight had been removed from her shoulders. She had a thought. ‘I’ve only got one key at the moment. I’ll get some duplicates made tomorrow. How do I get one to you?’

He explained that his offices were right in the town centre, not far from the auctioneers. She agreed to drop him in a couple of keys the next morning. He drained his pint, politely refused the offer of another and stood up.

‘If you don’t mind, Ms Grant, I had better get off home. My wife is going out to her art club and I’m keeping an eye on the kids.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you. And it’s Alice, please.’

He reached out and shook her hand. ‘See you tomorrow, Alice. Come to think of it, if you delay coming to see me until the afternoon, that’ll give me time to get some prices together for you. That way you’ll have a better idea of what it’s all going to cost you.’

‘Thank you so very much.’ She gave him a little wave as he made his exit.

She sat back with a contented smile on her face. Things were looking better. The bar had filled up a good bit by now. A glance at her watch told her it was almost eight o’clock. She took a sip of wine and began studying the faces of the locals. A bleep from her iPad told her she had received an e-mail. It was from Danny.



Dear Alice

How awful. I do hope you manage to get things sorted out. I feel terribly responsible. It was, after all, my idea for you to look at auction sites and I was the one who recommended Beauchamp. Maybe if I hadn’t suggested it, you wouldn’t be in this fix now.

Can I at least try to make up for this in some small way by buying you dinner on Saturday night? I would love to see you again and to hear all the gory details. That is assuming you are still talking to me….

Danny

She pressed Reply and started to type.

Don’t be so silly. I’m a grown woman and I should have known better. And, of course, there’s no need to buy me a meal. But, anyway, I would be very happy to have dinner with you on Saturday. Why don’t you come round to my place for a drink before we go out? By the way, I spent half an hour holding you, then five minutes scratching your ears this afternoon and you enjoyed it.

XX

Alice

She read it through, hesitated, then removed the last sentence. It sounded a bit flirty. That wouldn’t do at all. After all, she was soon to be his landlady.


Chapter 8 (#ulink_f1235e4e-b97f-54e0-ab6e-091928a360cf)

The sun was still shining the following day, although it was a cold start. Breakfast in the cosy kitchen would have been even more enormous if she hadn’t stopped Mrs Tinker from filling the frying pan with food. In the end she consumed a bowl of cereal, two fried eggs with bacon, toast and numerous cups of tea. She vowed not to eat again that day assuming, of course, that she could raise herself from her seat. Danny the dog was in a playful mood and she found she actually enjoyed his company. He kept giving her not so gentle nudges under the table when Mrs Tinker wasn’t looking. By the time she had demolished the bacon and eggs, she could feel his head resting on her thigh.

‘You can give him the bacon rind, if you like.’ Mrs Tinker was well aware of what was happening under the table. ‘It’s the one exception I allow and he knows it.’ At the sound of her voice, the dog emerged like magic and took the leftovers very delicately from Alice’s hesitant hand.

‘He’s very gentle, isn’t he? I thought he might have my hand off.’

‘He’s a lovely dog.’ Breakfast over, the dog wandered over to his mistress and sat at her side. She scratched his ears.

‘So, you’re staying on for another night?’

‘Yes, if that’s all right, but no cooked breakfast tomorrow, please. I have a dinner date on Saturday night and I need to have a bit of room left over.’

‘I was sure a pretty girl like you would have a young man. Have you been together long?’ Mrs Tinker had a distinct twinkle in her eye. It did not waver, even when Alice blushed red.

‘Oh no, he’s not a boyfriend or anything like that. He’s a friend from work. He’s going to rent my flat when I come down here.’

‘But you did use the word “date”, didn’t you, my dear?’

‘Well, yes, but it’s only an expression. We’re just friends, really.’

Mrs Tinker decided to change the subject. ‘So what are your plans for today?’

‘I thought I would do a bit of exploring this morning. This afternoon I’ve got an appointment with your Peter. I need to give him some keys and he’s promised me some prices.’

‘Why don’t you start here in the village? The church is eight hundred years old, you know. Danny and I will come and show you the way, if you like. It’s time for his walk.’ At the sound of this magic word, the dog leapt to his feet.

A few minutes later they set off. The dog was clearly delighted to be out in the fresh air. Alice was very impressed to see that he walked to heel, without the need of a lead, even though the first part of their walk was down a road. As they passed the pub, she could see the church tower sticking up just behind it.

‘I didn’t realise I was so close to the village centre last night.’

‘Woodcombe isn’t big. There used to be two pubs, but one closed down. Mind you, we’ve still got a shop, sort of a general store.’ She stopped as they reached the lychgate in front of the church. ‘Danny and I will leave you here. We go up in the fields beyond the church for our walk. I’ll see you later. Enjoy yourself.’

Alice watched them walk off then turned and went through the gate into the churchyard. She walked up among the tombstones, soon realising that the same three or four surnames appeared regularly. The earliest date she could read was 1667, but some of the stones were so covered in moss and lichen she felt sure they must be even older. The church was cold and a bit damp, but surprisingly light. Most of the windows were clear, although there were a few stained glass scenes here and there. George and a very fiery-looking dragon took pride of place behind the altar.

Between two rows of choir stalls she spotted a bottom.

‘Good morning.’ She felt she should say something.

The sound of her voice must have surprised him. He jumped visibly and she heard a thud as some part of his anatomy hit the woodwork.

‘Sorry if I gave you a shock. Are you all right?’ Her voice was hesitant.

He rose to his feet, gently rubbing the side of his head. He was a handsome man, dark-haired, with broad shoulders. He could have been her age, maybe a year or two older.

‘I’m fine.’ He looked a bit shifty and did not meet her eye. She began to feel strangely anxious. She glanced around the church. It was quite empty apart from the two of them.

‘Did you lose something?’ She did her best to keep her voice level.

‘No, just a bit of wet rot.’ He sounded more normal now. ‘The problem is, I’m not a carpenter.’

Reassured, Alice relaxed and took a better look at him. He was well-spoken and dressed in a dark jumper. Presumably he was the vicar. But she hadn’t seen such a handsome vicar before. She decided to introduce herself.

‘I’m Alice Grant.’ She reached out her hand. ‘I’ll be living here for the next six months or so, while my house in Beauchamp is being refurbished.’

‘Daniel Tremayne.’ She recognised one of the surnames that cropped up on a number of the tombstones outside. He turned towards the door, clearly uncomfortable. ‘I’d better get on the phone to somebody who can sort this out. Good morning.’ And he was gone.

She continued her tour of the village. The village green was surrounded by ancient trees, all just coming into leaf. In a few weeks it would no doubt be a lovely shady spot. She saw that the war memorial had recently been cleaned. The granite looked as if it had only been hewn a few days before. The brass letters of the names of the fallen had been polished and lacquered. She was appalled to see no fewer than thirty-six names of men killed between 1914 and 1918. All from just this one small village. Her eye was drawn to the name Tinker, Corporal A.J. No doubt a relative of her lovely landlady. Below that was Tremayne. No fewer than four names were listed. She wondered if they were all from the same family. She tried to imagine the grief of a mother at the loss of four sons.

As Alice walked back up to Drake Cottage, she found herself mulling over the possibility of making the Great War her chosen historical period. Although she had read a number of books on twentieth century history, she realised she knew relatively little about that age. She decided to look out for some suitable background reading.

The drive down to the seaside only took fifteen minutes. She turned into Lyndhurst Avenue and parked outside number 23. The heap of rubbish in the front garden looked even worse than she remembered. She hastily set off down the road to investigate what lay beyond. Part way down the road, she ran into Joyce Parker from number 44 and her spaniel.

‘You’re looking bit more cheerful today, my dear.’

Alice gave her a smile. ‘I’ve found a lovely bed and breakfast in Woodcombe. I feel much more at home already.’ She found she was stroking the dog’s ears as she talked. This was another sign that things were changing in her life. ‘Now I’m just going round to take a look at the garden of number 23.’ She couldn’t miss the grimace on Mrs Parker’s face.

‘It’s not pretty.’ She gave Alice an encouraging smile. ‘But it won’t take too much to get it shipshape again.’

Alice set off again. When she reached the turning circle at the end, she saw a footpath leading off to the left. This joined up with a narrow lane that ran along behind the row of houses. She followed it upwards, studying the rear elevations of the houses. There was no mistaking which was number 23.

The fence had all but disintegrated. All that remained were a few mouldy posts and an untidy pile of rotten planks. Beyond them was the garden. Or rather, what had once been a garden. All that remained now was a confused landscape of soil, weeds, rocks and rubbish. Probably, she thought to herself, not dissimilar to the battlefields of the First World War. The only good news was that there didn’t appear to be any poo out there. Maybe the council people had cleared it up, or the loony lady had preferred soiling other people’s gardens. She sighed deeply. At that moment her phone rang. She dug it out of her pocket.

‘Hi Alice, it’s me.’ Sally had decided to check that she was OK. Alice sat down on the edge of an old cast iron bath and gave her the sordid details.

‘Oh, you poor thing.’ Sally sounded appalled. ‘So what are you going to do?’

Alice was on the point of telling her about Peter the surveyor and the industrial cleaning company he’d recommended when she spotted something moving by her foot. She glanced down. At first she saw nothing but then, suddenly, there was another movement. To her horror, a large rat emerged from underneath a broken flower pot, scrambled over a pile of broken crockery and set off in the direction of the house. She squealed, jumped to her feet and ran back down the lane as fast as she could. Only when she was by the river did she stop. She was still holding the phone. She raised it to her ear and could hear Sally’s frantic voice.

‘Alice, Alice. Oh my God, what’s happened?’ Sally’s voice sounded as terror-stricken as Alice felt. She cleared her throat and replied.

‘It’s all right, Sally. I’m all right. It was just a rat.’

‘Just a rat?’ Sally, while relieved to hear her friend’s voice once more, was far from reassured. ‘What the hell kind of place is it that you’ve bought?’

Alice spotted a bench by the water. The morning sun had already reached it and it looked dry. She sat down and took a few deep breaths. Then she told Sally the second half of her tale, up to and including the man in the church. Predictably, Sally was far more interested in Daniel Tremayne than the surveyor and the industrial cleaners.

‘That’s my girl, Al. That’s just what you need.’ A thought struck her. ‘What is it about you and men called Danny? Isn’t that the name of the tall boy I quite fancy, even if you don’t?’

Until that moment, Alice hadn’t associated the first name of Daniel Tremayne, the vicar, and Danny. She had been concentrating on his surname, because of the gravestones. Now it seemed really strange. ‘What you don’t know, Sal, is that there are now four males in my life called Danny. The one you know in London, the vicar of Woodcombe, a little boy of six months, and a four-legged one.’ She thought about Sally’s question. Yes, what is it about me and the name Danny?


Chapter 9 (#ulink_1c0d8571-5b47-5a5c-943e-e59a08511604)

The doorbell rang at seven-thirty sharp. Alice cast a quick glance at her reflection in the mirror as she went through to the hall. I’ll do, she thought to herself, glad that she had decided to go with the grey mohair top.

Danny gave her a big smile as the door opened. She looked stunning. ‘Hi, Alice. Good evening. So you are still talking to me then?’

‘Hi Danny. Come in. Don’t be so silly. There’s only one person responsible for my buying a house full of poo, and that’s me.’ She ushered him into the sitting room. ‘So what’s the plan? Have we got time for a glass of something here first?’

‘That sounds good. I’ve booked us a table on the top floor of the Tate Modern. I booked for eight-thirty, I hope that’s all right. The view won’t be quite as good as you were used to at G&B, but you’ll see stuff from a different angle.’ Suddenly worried, lest his reference to the company upset her, he hurried on. ‘Not that you want to talk about G&B, I’m sure.’ He was relieved to see her look unperturbed.

‘I really don’t mind what we talk about, as long as it’s not industrial cleaners and poo. What will you have to drink? White wine?’

He followed her into the kitchen and watched as she took a bottle from the fridge. He was surprised to see the fridge almost empty otherwise.

‘Yours has got even less in it than mine. Do you live on air, or takeaways?’

She poured two glasses of wine and handed him one.

‘I just got back from Devon this afternoon. I’ll go shopping in the morning.’ She led him back into the sitting room and took a seat on the sofa. She kicked off her shoes and curled her legs up underneath her. She held up her glass in his direction. ‘A toast; to you here in Greenwich and to me in Beauchamp.’ He was pleased to hear that she now pronounced it the way the locals did, “Beecham”.

He leant down and clinked his glass against hers before taking a seat opposite her. He noticed that the grey jumper perfectly matched the colour of her eyes. She was looking a good deal happier than the last time he had seen her. He thought he should tell her so.

‘I’m really pleased to see you looking so chirpy. Does this mean your career change is beginning to look like a good idea?’

‘Do you know, Danny, I think it is.’ She gave him a broad smile. ‘Give or take a house full of poo.’

‘So, tell me all about it. It isn’t really full of poo, is it?’

She filled him in on the true state of the house, including the rat. She then went on to tell him about Mrs Tinker and the providential arrival of her nephew, Peter. ‘The house I’m renting is in a lovely little village not far from the sea. The surveyor is wonderful. He’s already fixed up with the cleaners for them to come down next week. If all goes well, he may be able to get in to do his survey as soon as Monday week.’

They chatted easily until past eight, at which time he suggested they head for the restaurant.

Their table was right beside the window, looking out across the Thames towards St Paul’s cathedral. The meal was excellent and they continued to talk. Although they had known each other at work for almost five years, there was an awful lot to find out for both of them. Alice was the first to get personal.

‘So, how is it that a handsome young man like you is still single?’

He smiled. ‘I’m not totally sure what the correct way of describing my present state is. I am almost single.’ Seeing the look on her face, he explained. ‘I’m forty-two.’ She looked up in genuine surprise. ‘I got married when I was still quite young. It lasted for just over eighteen years. We split up almost two years ago and the divorce is going through. Some time soon I should get the news that I am once again single.’ In spite of the smile, she could hear the regret in his voice.

She was still digesting the fact that he was three years older than she was. With his mop of blond hair and boyish good looks, she had always thought of him as a youngster. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. I hope it isn’t one of those grim divorces.’

‘I don’t think there’s any other kind.’ He was looking more serious than she had ever seen him. ‘How Joan Collins managed to survive ten divorces, I’ll never know.’

‘I think you might just be exaggerating a tad there.’ She smiled at him.

He decided it was now his turn to put her on the spot. ‘So, if I may ask, how is it that an attractive woman such as yourself is still unattached, if you are? No husband hidden away somewhere?’

She looked down at her glass, gently shaking her head. ‘I’ll tell you something, Danny. Buying the house full of poo was not the only stupid mistake I’ve made in this life. The other, much bigger one, was devoting myself body and soul to G&B for so many years. To the exclusion of all else.’ She looked up. ‘You know something? When Nigel told me I had lost my job, I was devastated. But now, the more I think about it, the better it feels.’

‘And this place in Devon? Is that where your new life will be?’

She gave it some thought. ‘I was thinking about that on the train on the way home today. I actually felt almost sorry to leave Devon this morning. So maybe that’s one decision I’ve got right. It’s so very different from the city.’ She looked up with a smile on her face as she remembered. ‘Whether I stay in Beauchamp or go for one of the surrounding villages, I have yet to decide. But I’ve already found a couple of Dannys down there to keep me company.’

He looked puzzled.

‘I was going to tell you in my e-mail, but I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. One of them I held in my arms, and the other one I scratched behind his ears.’

He gave her a smile as she explained what she meant. Underneath the smile, he found himself repeating her words…wrong idea?

She smiled back. Underneath the smile, she realised she had deliberately omitted to mention the other Danny, or rather, Daniel the Vicar. Why, she wondered, had she done that?


Chapter 10 (#ulink_e32d66ae-c5d7-5c56-bedd-2bce63ac296c)

The phone call from Peter the Surveyor came late the following Friday.

‘I am happy to report that the house has now been cleared. You will be interested to know that it took a team of three men three full days to clean it out. I’m afraid that the bill for disposal of what they refer to as “medical waste” has pushed the total up by almost a thousand pounds, but they’ve done it. I will go in on Monday to take an initial look. If you have plans to come down to Beauchamp, maybe you might like to meet me on site at some point.’

‘Fantastic.’ The extra thousand seemed a small price to pay for getting rid of everything. ‘I’m coming down to Devon tomorrow. I’ve arranged to stay with your aunt again, so you can contact me there if you can’t get me on the mobile.’ She had already made the discovery that the steep Devon hills and valleys were not conducive to mobile phone reception. ‘Did they make any comment on what they saw?’

There was a brief pause. ‘It seems there may be an infestation of dry rot.’

‘Dry rot?’ She knew that wasn’t good news. ‘Isn’t that the sort of thing that makes houses fall down?’

‘Only in the most extreme cases. Normally it can be remedied. I’ll take a look on Monday and should be better placed to make a judgement then. It may not even be dry rot. There are lots of fungal growths that look similar. By the way, just to warn you, the garden still looks like a rubbish dump. As it doesn’t look as if there’s anything toxic out there, we can get a local firm to clear it. It’ll work out a lot cheaper for you. I’ll give you a call on Monday afternoon.’

She thanked him and headed for the bathroom. She had arranged to meet a bunch of former colleagues from G&B for a drink when they finished work at six. She found herself humming in the shower. Things were on the up.



Next day she took a morning train from Paddington. Being a Saturday, it was a bit quieter than usual. She bought a car magazine at the station in order to have some idea of what sort of vehicle to get when she moved down to the West Country. This was not a subject with which she was familiar. In fact, she thought to herself as the train picked up speed, she couldn’t even remember what make her rental car the previous week had been. As she flicked through page after page of incomprehensible gobbledegook, she soon realised that this was a decision she was not qualified to make. She needed advice.

The only person she could think of with a car was Danny. She knew he had one because he had told her he took his windsurfing board everywhere on the roof. He kept it in the car park under the G&B building. She pulled out her phone and scrolled down to Danny Kemp. It was half past nine. Hopefully he would not still be in bed.

The phone rang five or six times before it was answered. It was a woman’s voice. Momentarily discomfited, Alice hesitated. The voice at the other end tried again.

‘Hello, is anybody there?’ It did not sound like an old woman. Very much the opposite, in fact.

‘Mm, hello. Could I speak to Danny?’

‘I’m afraid he’s in the shower. Can he call you back?’

‘Um, yes, please.’

‘Who shall I say is calling?’

‘It’s Alice.’

‘Okay. He won’t be long.’

Alice placed the phone back on the table. So had Danny got a girl staying with him? And, anyway, she thought to herself, what’s it to me, if he has?

She picked up the car magazine again and continued to flip through the pages without enthusiasm. It was all very confusing. She was trying to work out the difference between a Range Rover Evoque and a Range Rover Sport when her phone started to ring. It was Danny.

‘Hi Danny, sorry if I disturbed you before.’

‘Hi Alice.’ He sounded pleased to speak to her. ‘We had a bit of a lie-in this morning. I’ve got Janie staying for the weekend and we had a bit of a night of it last night.’

Alice realised that she really did not want to hear of his conquests, so she hastily came to the point. ‘I was looking for some advice. Do you know anything about cars?’

‘A bit.’ He sounded surprised. ‘Are you thinking of getting one?

‘I’ve worked out that you can’t really live in Devon without one. I’m on my way down there now and it won’t be long before I’m living there. It’ll cost me a fortune to rent one, so I reckon I’d better buy something. The problem is that I don’t really know the first thing about them. I bought a magazine, but it doesn’t help. Did you know there were lots of different types of Range Rover for instance?’ Up till then she had just thought that a Range Rover was a Range Rover. He laughed.

‘I probably wouldn’t advise buying one of them. Not unless you’ve got your own oil well. Maybe something a tad smaller? Anyway, what’s the news on the house? Have the cleaners been in?’ She recounted what the surveyor had told her. ‘That sounds excellent. I wouldn’t worry too much about dry rot. We had it in our first house and it’s still standing.’

That sounded reassuring. ‘Thanks for that, Danny. So, what sort of car should I get?’ There was a pause as he gave it consideration.

‘Are you planning on buying it down in Devon or up here?’

‘I hadn’t thought of that. I suppose it would make more sense to buy it in London, so I could use it to carry things like plants and valuables that the removal men don’t take.’

‘Well, how about I come car shopping with you some time next week?’

She accepted eagerly and they arranged to meet on Thursday. It was on the tip of her tongue to offer him lunch in return for dinner the other night. But the knowledge that he was in his flat with another woman stopped her. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

After he hung up, he wished he’d offered to buy her lunch, but he decided against calling her back. A smell of grilled bacon came through from the kitchen. He reached for a jumper and headed through to Janie. He was impressed. This was just about the first time she had ever cooked for him. Things were looking up.


Chapter 11 (#ulink_8f9bd189-9fa9-5b11-a6a3-bd7cc6a7c2cf)

Alice arrived in Exeter on time and went straight to the car rental agency opposite the station. This time she made a note of the type of car they gave her. It looked very similar to the one she had had the previous week, just silver instead of black. She drove straight to Woodcombe, to drop her bag. She was met at the door by a smiling Mrs Tinker and a friendly dog.

‘Hello Mrs Tinker, and hello Danny.’ The dog seemed very pleased to see her, as did his mistress.

‘Hello, my dear. I’ve got something to show you. Put your bag down here and come next door with me.’ She led Alice back out of the front door and along to the entrance of Duck Cottage. The door was half open. She waved Alice in.

The house was warm and welcoming and smelt of paint. In the kitchen an immensely tall man in a pair of white overalls was painting the ceiling. He had a step ladder, but was clearly only using it as a place to rest the pot of paint. The whole place looked wonderful.

‘You didn’t need to redecorate, Mrs Tinker. It looked fine as it was.’ Beside her, she could feel the heat from an Aga identical to the one next door.

‘Alice, this is Neil. He has painted our houses ever since I first got married.’

‘Have a heart, Agnes, I’m not that old.’ He waved a white-spotted hand in Alice’s direction. ‘I would shake your hand, but…’ He gave her a smile before returning his attention to Mrs Tinker. ‘Do you want me to give the bathroom a coat while I’m at it?’

‘Whatever you think needs doing, Neil. It needs to look good for Alice when she moves in.’ She turned towards her. ‘Have you got a date yet?’

Alice had been thinking about this on the train. There seemed no point hanging on in London. There was nothing and nobody to keep her there really. ‘As soon as possible if that’s all right with you. I’ll ring the removal people on Monday and see when they can manage. And I’m going shopping for a car on Thursday, so I won’t have to keep renting.’

‘That’s excellent, my dear. Neil will be out of here in the next few days. So any time will be fine. Just you let me know.’

Alice looked at her watch. It was half past one. ‘I think I’ll just slip down to the pub for a sandwich. Thank you so very much. And I’m sure I’ll see you again, Neil.’



The pub was unexpectedly busy. Then she remembered that it was the weekend. From the number of cars in the car park it was clear that people came there from outside the village as well. She ordered a crab sandwich and took her mineral water to a little table beside the door. Around her there was a sociable hubbub of noise. She was waiting for the food to be brought to her table when she spotted a familiar face. She gave him a little wave. For a moment she thought he was going to ignore her, but then recollection dawned. He came across to her table.

‘I can remember that it’s Alice, but I can’t remember your surname. Must be getting old.’

She smiled up at him. ‘And you are Daniel Tremayne. This must prove that I’m younger than you are.’ She felt remarkably pleased to see him. She pointed to the other chair. ‘You look tired. Would you like a seat?’

There was a moment’s hesitation, then he sat down opposite her. ‘Thanks. I’ve been on my feet all morning.’

She scrutinised him discreetly. He was still as handsome as she remembered, but there were bags under his eyes and he did not look comfortable. ‘Are you a regular here, Mr Tremayne? Oh, and by the way, it’s Grant, Alice Grant.’

‘Of course.’ He slapped his forehead in annoyance. ‘I knew it was a short name. Grant, right, I’ve got it now. I suppose I am a sort of regular. I rarely go to pubs these days but, if I do, it’s this one.’

‘So what have you been doing to keep you on your feet all Saturday morning?’

‘We had a car boot sale to raise funds for the church. It only just finished half an hour ago. A lot of the folk here are recovering, like me, from the effort.’ He looked across at her. ‘And how long are you down for this time?’

‘Only for a few days now, but I am moving in properly very soon. I’m renting Mrs Tinker’s other cottage. Some time this month, I hope.’ He looked tired, but there was more to it than that. The light blue eyes flickered around the room nervously. She did her best to put him at his ease. ‘I suppose Easter is a very busy time for you.’

‘I don’t know. It’s pretty full-on all year, really. From March onwards we are busy getting the fields ready, planting and so on.’ While she was trying to make sense of his words, he jumped to his feet. ‘Here, Alice, there’s somebody I should introduce you to.’ He caught the arm of a tall lady. ‘Megan, there’s somebody I’d like you to meet.’

Alice looked up as the lady, probably around fifty, turned towards her. The first thing she noticed was the clerical collar. Followed by the friendly smile.

‘Hello Daniel. Who’s your new friend?’ She was quite an attractive woman, struggling against some terrible clothes. A tweed skirt?

‘Megan, let me introduce you to a soon-to-be resident of our lovely village. This is Alice Grant. Alice, this is our beloved vicar, Megan Jones.’

Alice swallowed her surprise and offered her hand. ‘You have a lovely old church.’ The vicar’s smile broadened. Alice could now see that she was probably not fifty after all. Maybe mid forties, only six or seven years her senior.

‘Alas, as with all old buildings, it is badly in need of maintenance. If we couldn’t rely on the help of our faithful volunteers like Daniel, I fear I would be conducting services from the shelter of an umbrella.’

‘Would you like to sit down?’ Alice was beginning to get over her surprise and come to terms with who was who. ‘I imagine you’ve been on your feet all morning too.’

The vicar gave her a grateful look and slid onto the free chair. ‘Ah, that’s better. Daniel, have I taken your seat?’

‘Yes, but you are welcome to it. I have to be off. In fact I was on my way out when Alice spotted me. I’m sorry I have to rush off, but I’ve got to get back to Daisy.’ He bobbed his head in their direction and left.

Daisy? Alice was just thinking what an archaic name his wife had, when the vicar supplied some further information. ‘Poor Daniel. He’s been up most of the night with one of his milking herd. He looked exhausted this morning, but he insisted on helping us. The sale was in one of his fields, so I suppose he felt responsible.’

Alice found herself feeling unexpectedly relieved to hear about poor Daisy. ‘So, he’s a farmer, is he?’ She caught the vicar’s quizzical eye. ‘I’d better explain, I don’t really know anything about him. We just met briefly the other day in the church. In fact, until I met you, I thought he was the vicar.’

Just for a moment, she had the feeling that the vicar hesitated, but it might just have been an impression. ‘Daniel Tremayne is the closest thing to a lord of the manor that we’ve got around here. They say that if you stand on top of the church tower and look west, all you’ll see is Tremayne land.’

‘Ah, that explains all the Tremayne gravestones.’

‘Well spotted. Yes, I believe he can trace his ancestry back to medieval times. With a name like Jones, the furthest back I can get is the nineteen twenties. The name Jones is as common as muck in the Welsh valleys, I’m afraid. So what about you, Alice? What brings you to Woodcombe?’

‘I’m going for a fresh start.’ She soon found herself talking quite openly to the vicar about her life to date, her sacking and her decision to restart her life. She even told her about the house full of poo. The vicar wrinkled up her nose.

‘Well, at least by the sounds of it, that particular problem has now been eliminated. When are you going to take a look round the house?’

‘I thought I might go this afternoon. So, if you don’t see me again, you’ll know that the shock killed me.’

‘No, I’m sure you’ll be fine, Alice. And, although you don’t need me to tell you, I think you are doing just the right thing. Not many of us get offered a chance to start over again. I quite envy you.’ She glanced around the room before returning her eyes to Alice, a smile on her face. ‘There are some winter mornings when I rather wish I had gone for marriage to Richard Branson. I’m sure I could learn to like the beard. I can just see myself on a Caribbean island.’ She jumped to her feet. ‘Anyway, welcome to the village. I live right beside the church. The one with the blue door. If you ever want a cup of tea and a chat, you know where to find me.’ She gave her another smile. ‘Or come in the evening for a glass of wine.’

She left just as Alice’s crab sandwich appeared.


Chapter 12 (#ulink_44cc36a7-ad57-5c6a-a39d-1982cf732753)

Alice pulled up outside number 23 with considerable trepidation. The first thing she noticed was the lack of rubbish in the front garden. All that was left was a muddy puddle. She took that to be a very good sign. As she approached the front door, she saw that the windows were slightly open. As she opened the door and tentatively slid her nose around it, she was relieved and delighted to smell fresh air. All right, she had to admit to herself as she walked into the hall, not quite the sort of fresh air you might get on Beauchamp seafront, but an enormous improvement on what had been there before. She left the front door wide open behind her to aid the ventilation and started her voyage of discovery.

The air, as she penetrated into the house, had a chemical smell to it. The explanation was right in front of her in the lounge, where she found a printed card on the mantelpiece. Underneath the name of the cleaning firm, it read: No toxic chemicals have been used in this property. With good ventilation any residual odour should dissipate within a few days.

That sounded hopeful, which was more than could be said for the room. A huge patch of plaster had dropped off the ceiling, leaving bare wooden laths. A good quarter of the floorboards beneath this had completely disappeared, exposing the earth below. A sinister-looking grey fungus grew up the walls and into the window frame. The whole underfloor area was soaking wet. Maybe the presence of water meant that it wasn’t dry rot after all. Whatever it was, it did not look good. She retreated in the direction of the door.

The dining room and kitchen appeared almost normal at first sight, until you looked up. In both cases, the ceilings were bulging downwards, presumably in a similar state to the lounge. When she climbed the stairs and investigated in the bedrooms, she began to realise what had caused the plaster to drop off. In spite of the open windows and a lingering chemical odour, there was no disguising the underlying smell of urine. The stained floor boards told a sorry, sordid story. She hastily completed her tour of inspection and made a run for the front door. After taking a few lungfuls of clean air, she plucked up the courage to run back upstairs and force the windows further open front and back. Hopefully this would create more of a through draught. Mission accomplished, she headed back onto the street.

She was sitting on the wall, collecting her thoughts, when a noise attracted her attention. It was Vicky from next door, tapping on her lounge window. She beckoned Alice to come in.

‘Come to inspect the results of the big clean-up?’ She led the way through to the kitchen. This time there was no sign of the baby. ‘Tea?’

Alice nodded gratefully.

‘You should have seen what came out of next door.’ Vicky’s voice was awe-struck. ‘They were all dressed up like spacemen, complete with masks and gloves. They must have filled their truck four or five times.’ She turned back from the kettle, her eyes wide. ‘Do you know, they told me they removed no fewer than two thousand bottles of pee?’

Now it was Alice’s turn to look aghast.

‘And I don’t mean beer bottles. These were five-litre plastic containers.’

Alice’s face turned green.

‘And buckets and buckets of what they called “solids”.’

‘Oh, dear God.’ Alice pulled out a tissue and blew her nose in distaste. In the distance she heard a plaintive wail.

‘There’s Danny. He’s had his after-lunch sleep and he’s woken up. He probably heard your voice and wants to say hello.’ Vicky went off and returned with the little boy in her arms. He was red in the face and a bit cranky. She handed him over to Alice, who took him readily.

‘Hello Danny, I was thinking about you the other day.’ She smiled down at him, while reaching into her bag with her other hand. She looked across at Vicky. ‘I saw this in a shop in London the other day and couldn’t resist it. Here.’ She passed the little package across. Inside was a tiny sweat shirt with a big D on front and back. ‘It’s a little thank you for the life-saving cup of tea last week.’ She looked back at the little boy who decided to give her a big smile. In an instant she forgot her woes and burrowed her face into his tummy. He chortled.

‘Thank you, it’s sweet, but you shouldn’t have.’ Vicky placed a mug of tea in front of her and a packet of biscuits. As they chatted, Alice took one and nibbled it. She was tickled to see that the baby’s eyes followed her hand each time she raised it to her mouth, just like the Labrador. These two very different Dannys had that in common. She wondered for a moment if the two grown-up Dannys held strong views on biscuits. This thought, too, helped to raise her morale.

‘So what do you do, Vicky?’ Alice asked, and noted a cloud cross the younger woman’s face for a moment.

‘You’re looking at him. This little chap is keeping me fully occupied at present.’ There was a soft note to her voice, but there was something more underneath. She looked up at Alice. ‘And I love him to bits. But, to be honest, as soon as I can, I’d like to go back to university.’

Alice gave her a smile. ‘That’s a coincidence. I had exactly the same thought. What would you want to study?’

Vicky looked happier now. ‘A teaching qualification. I think I’d enjoy teaching. I did a languages degree here at Exeter a few years back. I’d really like to try teaching French and German.’ The cloud crossed her face again. ‘And I’m probably going to need the money. What about you?’

Alice noted her discomfort, but made no comment. ‘I’m thinking of history. Maybe try to get in to do an MA.’ She swallowed the last piece of her biscuit and reached for her tea.

The little boy, obviously tired of watching people eat and drink, extended his hands towards his mother and let out a squeal. Vicky gave him a tender smile. ‘You’ve only just had lunch, you know?’ She glanced up at Alice, a wistful look in her eye. ‘Just like his dad. Always eating.’


Chapter 13 (#ulink_bc82f253-dfc0-5ebe-b70e-23ed10254223)

Over the weekend, Alice settled down to research the First World War. She pulled out her laptop and set it up on the little table in her bedroom, looking out onto the garden. Since her last visit, the sunny weather had brought out more and more leaves and flowers. The garden looked fuller, the hedges thicker. She gazed out at the scene from time to time as she tried to take in the facts she read. Apart from ordering a couple of books on the war, she read her way through a number of websites dedicated to it. They made for sobering reading. The casualties were of epic proportions: sixteen million dead and twenty million wounded. For the first time, slaughter had been on an industrial scale.

As the sun dropped lower towards the horizon, she heard Mrs Tinker calling up to offer a cup of tea. She shut the laptop and headed downstairs, her mood darkened by her reading. There was no doubt in her mind, however, she was getting more and more interested in that period.

A mug of tea and packet of biscuits stood on the table. The Labrador came over to greet her and accompanied her to her seat. He had already worked out that the chocolate Hobnobs were on the table. He sat down beside Alice and studied her every move. Today, however, she resisted the temptation.

‘So have you been having a little snooze?’ Mrs Tinker gave her a knowing look. Alice had returned from Beauchamp at four and it was now almost seven o’clock. ‘Tired after the journey down, I expect.’

‘No, that’s not it. You see, I promised myself, once I was settled in Devon, I would see if I could get a place at university to do an MA.’ She looked up, still trying to come to terms with the horrors she had read. ‘I’m thinking about going for the First World War.’ She took a mouthful of tea. ‘It’s a fascinating, if deeply sad period.’

‘Ah, the Great War. That’s what my dad always called it. It only became the First World War after 1939. Of course, the men who came home from the war in 1918 couldn’t have imagined that Europe would be stupid enough to start a second one so soon afterwards.’ Mrs Tinker gave a sigh. ‘My uncle Tony was killed quite early on.’

Alice nodded, remembering seeing the name Corporal A. J. Tinker on the Woodcombe war memorial. Of course, A for Anthony.

Mrs Tinker went on, a faraway look in her eyes as she scoured her memory. ‘My dad was one of the lucky ones. He had TB as a child. They wouldn’t take him for the trenches.’

‘I bet he was grateful.’

Mrs Tinker looked up, an expression of incomprehension on her face. ‘Anything but, Alice. All his life he regretted the fact that he hadn’t done his bit, as he put it. The fact that he would almost definitely have been killed didn’t come into it.’ She shook her head sadly, a tear in her eye.

Alice reached across and laid her hand on hers. Her mother had died several years ago and she had never known her father. Somehow this old lady would make a wonderful surrogate grandma, if not mum. She gave her hand a squeeze.

‘Still, if he had gone off to war, you probably wouldn’t be here now.’ Mrs Tinker shot her a weak smile, pulled herself together and stood up.

‘If you’ve got a moment, there’s something through here that might interest you.’ She led Alice into the sitting room, where there was a bookcase along one wall. Mrs Tinker pointed to the bottom shelf. It was filled with volumes about the Great War. ‘Those belonged to my father. He read all of them. It’s a shame he’s no longer with us. He would have been able to answer all your questions about that time.’

Alice stared, wide-eyed, at the hoard of books, then looked up at Mrs Tinker. ‘Do you think I could read some of these? It’s an amazing collection.’

‘Of course you can. Take as many as you like. He would be pleased to know that you young ones are still interested after all these years.’

They returned to the warmth of the kitchen. It had been chilly in the other room. With clear skies, the nights were still cold, although spring was bursting out all over.

Alice went down to the King’s Arms for dinner. She told herself sternly that once she had got her own house, she would have to stop eating out. What was it she had said to Danny about slobbing out?

She brought her iPad with her to the pub, anxious to carry on with her research. She ordered a mineral water and a salad. Just because I’m in a pub, it doesn’t mean I can’t still have good, healthy food, she told herself. She checked her e-mails, but there was just the invoice for the clean-up at number 23 Lyndhurst Avenue. As the surveyor had said, it was more than expected, but she had no regrets.

The pub was crowded and she recognised a few of the faces around her from the previous times she had been there. There was no sign of the vicar or Daniel Tremayne, but a couple of young men gave her welcoming smiles. She began to feel a bit more cheerful. The fact that they were all ten or fifteen years younger than her gave her a lift. Maybe there was life in the old dog yet. Thought of the old dog made her think of Danny the Labrador. He really was a good dog. She was smiling at his memory when her iPad bleeped. It was an e-mail from Sally.



Hi Alice

I hope you don’t get this email until tomorrow because you are out with your handsome vicar tonight. Make sure you don’t tire him out too much. Tomorrow is his busiest day of the week, after all.

If you do get this tonight, you have my sympathy. The man must be gay or an idiot to ignore you. Mind you, life on a vicar’s stipend isn’t going to be easy, so cast your net wider. Remember what they say about fish in the sea.

XXX

Sal

Alice smiled as she read the message. She ordered a herbal tea and decided she had better set the record straight.



Thanks for thinking of me, Sal, and, no, I’m not out with the vicar. Which is probably just as well as she is a very nice lady called Megan. My mystery man isn’t the vicar after all. He’s the local landowner and he’s very handsome. You never know, I might get a ride on his tractor yet.

XXX

Alice

She debated for a minute whether to remove the tractor remark but, in the end, left it. Sally would only come out with it or something similar or smuttier otherwise. She pressed Send and found herself wondering how Daisy the cow was getting on.


Chapter 14 (#ulink_a7171c0b-b959-5fa4-8d5c-19875154ac7d)

Alice met the surveyor on Monday afternoon. She was greatly relieved upon entering the house to find the chemical smell almost gone. More importantly, the smell upstairs was far less noticeable than before. Nevertheless, Peter picked it up immediately.

‘I’m going to draw up a list of action I feel needs to be taken to render this place habitable. I think it would be wise to rip up the floorboards in both bedrooms and the bathroom and replace them. It won’t be a major expense and it will get rid of any lingering memories of the former owner.’ He caught her eye and they both grimaced.

‘And the ceilings down below?’ Alice knew the answer before he said it.

‘They’ll have to come down. The plaster in the dining room looks as if it’s only being held in place by the donkey’s breakfast.’

‘Donkey’s breakfast?’ This was a new one to Alice. He gave her a smile.

‘Sorry, the proper name is woodchip wallpaper. Builders always refer to it as donkey’s breakfast because it’s made up of wheat and chaff between two layers of paper. It’s gone out of fashion these days so if you replace the ceilings you won’t have to worry about stripping it off.’

They walked around the house and decided to remove the back wall of the dining room and open it into the kitchen, making a good-sized kitchen diner. Upstairs Peter came up with the idea of splitting the big bedroom and creating a new, smaller bathroom. By so doing, the former bathroom became bedroom number three. He brought in a ladder and climbed into the roof space. Alice left him to get on with it. His parting words were that he would e-mail her his surveyor’s report before the end of the week.

It was another fine, dry day so, after he’d gone, Alice decided to leave her car outside the house and walk into town along the river. The footpath snaked down through the trees until the river widened and ran out into the sea. At this point she turned off onto the promenade and walked along, parallel to the beach. There were a few hardy souls sitting out in the chilly April sunshine. A host of dogs more or less supervised by their owners were having a wonderful time running and playing. Alice wondered whether Danny the dog ever came down here. A few windsurfers were out, but the gentle breeze was not really enough to power them. She paused to read a poster attached to a lamp post.



UK Windsurfing Competition Weekend

Beauchamp-by-the-Sea

14


to 17


June 2013

She looked back out to sea. The few hesitant learners out there were definitely not going to be taking part in that competition.

‘Hello again, Alice. Are you having your afternoon constitutional?’

She wheeled round. It was Megan, the vicar of Woodcombe.

Alice noticed that the vicar was dressed in sailing boots and a waterproof jacket. She had a bit of colour in her face and looked all the better for it. ‘Hello, Megan, have you been sailing? Is that your hobby?’

‘Well, I do enjoy messing about in boats, when I get the chance, but this afternoon I’ve been working.’ Alice gave her a quizzical look, so Megan explained. ‘One of my parishioners died a couple of weeks back. He asked for his ashes to be scattered at sea, so we’ve been out doing that this afternoon.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘It’s pretty chilly out there on the water.’

‘Would a cup of tea and a cake warm you up?’ Alice pointed across the road to the Sea View Café. ‘My treat.’

‘I like the sound of that. Thank you, Alice, I would love to.’

They crossed the road and managed to get a table by the window. The view along the beach to the red cliffs beyond was delightful.

‘So, how are things?’ Megan sat back and enjoyed the warmth in there.

‘Good. Very good, in fact.’ Alice went on to tell her what the surveyor had said. ‘All in all, it doesn’t look like there’s anything too wrong with the house structurally. But he says it is definitely dry rot. He’ll get a firm in to give an estimate for treating it. It sounds like we’ll have to do quite a bit of replastering, but he says it’s not terminal.’

‘Where’s the house?’

‘Lyndhurst Avenue. Do you know it?’

Megan looked up and nodded. ‘I know it quite well, actually.’

‘It’s a really nice quiet road. I really think I might move in there once it’s finished.’

‘Well, we’ll miss you in Woodcombe if you do. Of course, you could always sell it and buy somewhere in the village.’

Alice had been thinking about that for a few days now. Everybody in Woodcombe was so nice and friendly, but then, so were the neighbours she had met in Lyndhurst Avenue. ‘I know one thing for definite. London has had it, as far as I’m concerned. Wherever I end up, I reckon Devon is the place.’

‘Nobody waiting for you in the big city?’

Alice shook her head. ‘That part of my life is all over now.’

‘What, nobody at all? I thought a lovely girl like you would be fighting them off.’

‘Not that young, Megan. I’m thirty-eight, you know.’

‘You look younger. But, have you really been buried in your job to the exclusion of all else? When’s the last time you went out on a date?’

Alice was momentarily nonplussed. The waitress arrived with their tea and a triple-decker cake tray. They chose a cake each and by the time she had left, Alice had had time to think about her answer. ‘I suppose it depends what you mean by “date”. I was taken out for dinner last Saturday by a friend from work.’ She hesitated. ‘But he’s not that sort of friend.’ Seeing something in the vicar’s eyes, she hastened to clarify. ‘No, I don’t mean he’s gay or anything. He’s going to rent my London flat while I am down here.’ She looked across the crockery to the vicar, whose expression was unconvinced.

‘Still, it sort of qualified as a date, didn’t it?’

Alice smiled. ‘That’s what Mrs Tinker said, but even if it was, he’s got a girlfriend. In fact she spent this weekend with him.’

‘You seem to know a lot about him.’ She was teasing now. ‘Anyway, apart from this sort-of-date, when was the last time you went out on a proper one?’

This took some calculating. ‘Do you know, Megan? I can’t really remember. Probably a couple of years ago…’ Her voice tailed off. Megan was quick to leap in and help out.

‘Still beats me. I tell you this, Alice, if you think you’ve got problems, try swapping places with me. The old dog collar is a real passion killer. One whiff of what I do for a living and members of the opposite sex are reaching for their car keys. Still,’ she took a bite of the cream éclair on her plate, ‘there’s more to life than men.’


Chapter 15 (#ulink_3ffffd19-0c77-58e8-836a-ce789fe4785b)

Alice returned to London in time for her car buying appointment with Danny. He arrived at her flat at ten o’clock on Thursday morning, bringing with him a briefcase full of car magazines, and a laptop. She waved him in and went off to fill the kettle. ‘Tea or coffee?’

‘Tea, please, Alice.’ He came through to the kitchen and watched as she made the tea. He enjoyed watching her and was close enough to smell her perfume. She looked as good as ever, and he was pleased to see some of the worry lines around her eyes had softened.

‘You know, Alice, you’re looking a lot more relaxed since the last time I saw you. Is that all down to fresh Devon air and manual work on your new house?’

‘Sort of.’ She put a tea bag in the pot and added the hot water. ‘I got the surveyor’s report last night. He reckons it isn’t going to cost as much as I feared to get it back into shape. Considering I paid so little for it in the first place, I might do all right after all.’

‘And you’ll move in there yourself when it’s done?’

‘That’s a tricky one.’ She went on to tell him how kind and welcoming she had found people down in Devon. She mentioned Danny the baby and Danny the dog, but still didn’t mention Daniel Tremayne.

‘So your next step will be to get a big black dog, I suppose?’ She noted that he made no mention of babies.

‘Your namesake is a very handsome dog, and he’s got a longer pedigree than I’ll ever have. As I’ll be living next door to him for the next six months, I’ll be able to borrow him when I get lonely.’

‘I can’t imagine you being lonely for long.’ She made no comment but poured the tea and carried the mugs through to the sitting room on a tray, along with a packet of biscuits.

He nodded towards them. ‘Not so worried about slobbing out on the couch after all?’

She gave him a smile and pushed them across. ‘I seem to be running around a lot these days. I may even have lost weight since leaving G&B.’ She glanced across at him. ‘You’re looking fit and well. Something or somebody doing you good?’

He ignored the reference to “somebody” and groaned. ‘I’m in training. I’ve been in the gym almost every day for the last God knows how long. When you phoned last Saturday, it was my first lie-in for weeks.’

She cut in before he could supply any more details about what he and the girl might or might not have been doing. ‘What’s all the training for?’

‘I was going to tell you. I’m going to be coming down to your neck of the woods in a few weeks’ time. There’s a big windsurfing event in Devon in June, in Beauchamp itself as it happens. There’s going to be a race for old-timers like me, and I’ve let myself get talked into competing.’

‘I saw the poster.’ As she said it, she had an image of a windsurfer, stripped to the waist, his perfect abs shiny with sweat, as the huge breakers pounded the beach behind him. She shook the picture out of her head and concentrated on Danny’s face. She was pleased to see that, unlike the baby and the dog, his eyes did not follow the movement of her hand as she nibbled at the biscuit. ‘Well, let me know when you are going to be there. I’ll come along and cheer. Come to think of it, I should have a spare room by then. It’s a bit small, but it would do you for a day or two.’





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