The House at the Bottom of the Hill (7 page)

Smarmy
.

‘Those for, raise your hands,’ Ted said, gavel lifted to shoulder height.

About forty hands went up in the air, with a few murmurs of appreciation.

‘That’s obviously a vote of confidence but we must do things properly.’ Ted cleared his throat with a bumptious cough. ‘All those against, show your hands.’

Charlotte shot her arm in the air, dead straight, fingers stretched.

‘You don’t count,’ Ted said, and banged the gavel.

Charlotte stacked three chairs from a row at the back of the hall and shunted them into a corner with the other piles, intent on her task and on not feeling isolated.

The judges at her trial were evading her as though her very presence in their Town Hall might cause the infrastructure of the historic building to crumble at any second. As though she were some newly discovered stone-decaying fungus. Best not go into the kitchen to help with the washing up—being ignored from a distance was the better option.

‘I’m hoping you’re not going to give me too much trouble during this process.’

Charlotte slotted the last chair onto a pile of others and turned to Daniel. ‘You’ve done this on purpose,’ she said. ‘Because I don’t respond to your little-boy-gorgeous manner.’

‘I wouldn’t say I was gorgeous.’

Well, he was—to look at, not so much to hold a conversation with. ‘Don’t pull your fast charm on me. I know what you’re up to, and you’re wrong.’

‘What am I wrong about?’

‘About …’
Ethan
. ‘You know.’ It wasn’t only his opinionated observations about her fancying Ethan she’d have to watch out for. His very presence appeared to be unravelling the unflinching image she’d been portraying.

‘No, I don’t know,’ he said, head tilted in a jocular manner.

He knew. And if he was going to be close to her during this mediation process, with all his mighty charm and expensivecoffee-bean aroma, she might succumb and lose her steadfast image altogether. What would she be left with then? A shell. A lonely woman on a quest that was beginning to torment her and twist her priorities. ‘Why are you so keen on scrutinising my every move in town?’

‘You mean the committee thing?’ He shrugged. ‘Just being friendly.’

‘No, you’re not. You’re up to something.’ Not that she could think of one single thing he might be up to, but it certainly wasn’t because he wanted to be close to her. Like—really close.

‘You’re the one who’s up to something, Red.’

‘I bet you ten dollars I’m not.’ Lie. Big fat lie. One she’d have to hide from him. Especially if he got close. ‘And stop calling me Red.’

‘No deal. I bet you a five-K run you
are
up to something. And note I said a
five
-K run, since I doubt you’re up for distance.’

Charlotte knew he was teasing but why couldn’t he just leave her alone? What was his problem? ‘Distance?’ she said, pulling her shoulders back. ‘You have no idea how far I can go but you’re going to find out.’

‘Hi, what’s going on?’ Sammy asked, poking her head between them and glancing from one to the other with the look of a tolerant mother about to break up a kindergarten quarrel.

Daniel hitched a thumb Charlotte’s way. ‘Red and I are just getting acquainted.’

Sammy slanted a look at him. ‘What’s got you suddenly interested in joining the town committee?’

He gave her an indulgent smile. ‘Not what you think.’

She smirked right back. ‘Did I say anything?’

‘You don’t have to, you’ve got the nesting look on your face.’

Sammy poked him in his chest with her finger. ‘I’ll get to the bottom of it, you know I will.’

He patted the top of her head. ‘There’s nothing going on. Keep your nose out of it.’

Charlotte stepped back from their banter.

‘Not so fast.’ Sammy grabbed the sleeve of Charlotte’s blouse. ‘Let’s get out of here now. It takes them ages to wash up while they chat about what’s gone on and my feet won’t put up with standing that long.’

Charlotte indicated the committee members who were gathered around the gavel, collecting papers and collapsing the trestle table. ‘I should help.’ Her tone didn’t suggest complete happiness about the idea, but at least she’d made the effort.

‘Dan will do that for you.’ Sammy nudged him hard in the ribs. ‘Won’t you?’

He grunted in mock pain. ‘Will I?’

‘Hey, everyone,’ Sammy called out. ‘Charlotte wants to help clear up, but if you don’t mind, I’d like her to walk me to my car. Is that okay?’

A few murmurs, some nods and very few smiles.

‘I’ll walk you both down the street,’ Daniel said.

Sammy flounced past him, tucking her arm through Charlotte’s as she went. ‘But then we wouldn’t be able to talk about you.’

He grimaced. ‘Go easy on me, will you?’

‘Don’t worry,’ Sammy said to Charlotte as they walked down the darkened street. ‘The townspeople will come around.’

Charlotte breathed in the quietness of the town. What were the chances? She stared at her little B&B at the end of Main Street, the flamingo pink colour subdued by the dark and the glow of the street lamps. It looked like a flushed rose beneath the night sky. It looked a little special. Maybe this was the way the townspeople saw it.

‘Dan’s coming over for dinner one night next week,’ Sammy said as they walked past the pioneer cemetery with the ever-present white bunting on its picket fence. ‘Will you come too?’

Uh oh. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, Sammy, but is it just him or will you have other guests?’

Sammy glanced over her shoulder and raised her russetcoloured eyebrows. ‘You don’t like Daniel?’

Charlotte didn’t underestimate the coyness in Sammy’s tone. ‘Let’s just say we don’t appear to be able to speak nicely to each other, as I think you noticed.’

‘Something already happened between you?’

‘We had a bit of a to-do the other day at the stock feeders’.’ And another on the hillside. And another tonight.

‘An argument?’

‘Not exactly, but he was rude.’ So had Charlotte been. He was so provokingly charismatic she forgot her manners when around him. ‘Well, he was sort of rude,’ she conceded.

Sammy didn’t respond.

Charlotte swallowed a sigh. She’d belittled a friend of Sammy’s and was behaving in a standoffish manner to what was obviously a genuine hand of friendship. ‘Although he’s nice to Lucy,’ she admitted, ‘and she seems to like him.’ Worst luck.

‘Everybody likes him,’ Sammy said. ‘Dogs, old ladies, drunks.’

‘He’s a hotshot charm-boy.’

‘I know. That’s what makes him so attractive.’

How lucky was Ethan to have captured a wife like Sammy? A bright, vivacious woman who oozed family joy and was obviously deeply in love with her husband. ‘You can say that safely,’ Charlotte said. ‘You’re married.’

‘Safely?’ Sammy stopped, eyes wide. ‘Has Dan made a pass at you?’

‘Certainly not. He doesn’t like me.’

‘Has he flirted?’

‘No—he doesn’t like me.’
He thinks I’m after your husband
.

‘Come on, give. What’s happened between you?’

‘Well, when we first met at the stock feeders’, he seemed to be …’

‘Flirting?’

‘No. He twisted my words—’

‘Into some sort of flirty banter?’

‘More suggestive than that.’

‘Flirty suggestive?’

Charlotte gave Sammy a can-we-stop-now look.

Sammy grinned. ‘What were you talking about?’

‘Screwdrivers.’

Sammy wiggled her eyebrows. ‘Sexy stuff.’ She moved off down the street. ‘Do you remember what he was wearing?’

Charlotte followed. ‘A white shirt, a scratched leather belt and faded jeans.’

‘What shoes was he wearing?’

‘I didn’t look.’

Sammy glanced over her shoulder. ‘Didn’t get past those jeans, huh?’

Charlotte couldn’t still the deepening warmth Sammy’s offered friendship built in her chest. She wasn’t staying in town long, but so far it had been a lonelier road than anticipated. She decided to try out this offer of friendship. ‘He’s got a nice butt, I will say that for him.’

Sammy spluttered a laugh. ‘There’s nothing better than staring at a good-looking man in a pair of jeans.’

Charlotte gave in. ‘It’s a
very
nice backside.’

Sammy slowed her pace. ‘I’m trying to figure out if he’s keen on the committee, or keen on you.’

‘That’s a no regarding me.’

‘I’m not so sure.’ Sammy turned. ‘Did he give you his sparkly look? The one where lights flicker in his eyes?’

The dancing flecks of charm. ‘Do you see them too?’

‘Charlotte, there isn’t a woman in this town—or likely anywhere Dan’s been—who hasn’t been mesmerised by those lights.’

‘Except me.’

‘Yeah, right.’ Sammy leaned closer and lowered her voice. ‘Picture it. You’re with him, close to him. It’s dusk. It’s so quiet you can hear the mice scuttling behind the skirting boards in the empty bar. The air is warm. He leans towards you, tips his head and …’

Charlotte’s breath hitched.

Sammy offered a grin. ‘I’ll let you imagine the next part for yourself.’ She moved off towards a big blue ute.

‘Believe me,’ Charlotte argued, following. ‘The spark between us is a follow through to instant dislike of each other.’

‘Yeah,’ Sammy said as she beeped her remote at the ute. ‘And I’m
so
not pregnant.’

‘You getting friendly with the new woman?’ Mrs J asked Dan.

Dan kept his sigh to himself, took his focus off Sammy and Charlotte standing by Ethan’s ute, and turned to Mrs Johnson. ‘Nope. I’m helping everyone out here, that’s all.’

‘You’ve got a grin on your face every time you talk to her.’

‘She likes arguing. I’m happy to oblige.’

‘Bit of a surprise, seeing you stick your hand up for the committee.’

Dan gave her a quick grin. ‘Surprised myself but sometimes I feel the need to help people.’

‘Something familiar about her but I can’t put my finger on what.’

Here we go. Dan crossed his arms and settled in for the duration of the post-mortem. Whenever there was an inquisition regarding some poor sucker in town who’d done something questionable, somebody always piped up and said they’d heard this or that tittle-tattle. Dan had learned fast that it was best to let people talk themselves into and out of it again.

‘Don’t want you falling for her until I know what she’s up to,’ Mrs J continued.

Falling for her? Where had Mrs J got that idea?

‘I’ve got a nose for the suspect, Daniel, and she’s prime.’

‘What do you mean?’ Dan wondered if the old girl had heard the one about the two-timing redhead hiding from her furious boyfriends.

‘Not sure yet, but I recognise her from somewhere. It’s her hair, something about her colouring.’

Or the one about Red tying up an intruder in her home and using him as her sexual slave for three days before turning him over to the cops.

Dan shook that tale from his mind. He didn’t like the sound of it now any more than when he’d first heard it over the bar. And anyway, he wasn’t falling for her.

‘Ted said the same thing,’ Mrs J said. ‘He recognises her too. And while I’m on the subject of Ted, please be aware Grace said he’s having a few of his space-and-alien turns.’

‘Right. But he hasn’t disappeared yet.’ Dan hooked a thumb up at the heavens.

‘Not yet—but you of all people will remember how hard it was for him and Grace the last time he … disappeared … seeing as you found him.’

Poor old Ted and his obsessions. He had too many problems on his plate. ‘I’ll keep an eye on him. Well.’ Dan uncrossed his arms and looked over Mrs J’s shoulder. ‘I’ll give them a hand with the trestle table and then it looks like we’re done for the night.’ He glanced down. ‘Nice of you to keep me informed of things, Mrs J.’

‘Don’t mention it. You’ve proved yourself a worthy and valuable addition to the town.’

Yeah. Dan nodded and shifted his stance. The old girl hadn’t spoken to him for the first six months—thought he’d be bringing showgirls to the bar or something equally outrageous. What the townspeople forgot—or didn’t care to consider—was that Dan was country born and bred, like they were. Different town though. Might as well have been a different planet, now he thought about his first few years in Swallow’s Fall.

‘And we look after our own,’ Mrs J continued.

Her words brought a sudden but pleasant warmth to his chest. ‘Thank you, Mrs J.’ One of their own, huh? Not bad for six years of effort … and patience.

Mrs J looked around Dan’s shoulder, out the open door and down the street. ‘Do you fancy her?’

Jesus. Why was everyone so interested in what he thought of Charlotte? He glanced out of the door as Sammy drove away, Red giving a wave and walking slowly, a little ponderously maybe, towards her B&B. Couldn’t a man hold a conversation with an attractive woman without it going to council?

He turned to Mrs Johnson and opened his mouth.
Did
he fancy her?

‘No,’ he said.

Mrs J stared at him. Damn it. He’d paused too long and the old girl’s internal gossip receiver sparked the air as it charged.

C
harlotte squinted as the morning sunlight caressed her face. She leaned against the doorframe of her B&B, new screwdriver in one hand, the telephone in the other.

Early Monday morning in Swallow’s Fall and the town getting ready for its day.

It would be late Sunday night in Starfoot; maybe a few young people showing off with rowdiness as they made their way home from the local pub, giving the Yorkshire residents something to complain about the next morning as they queued for bread at the bakery and discussed the building of the new two-storey hotel on seventeen acres of good old English soil, a quarter of an acre of which had once been Charlotte’s.

‘So,’ Sammy said down the phone. ‘Dinner. Saturday night, six o’clock. I’ve got a roast planned and I’m going the whole hog since Ethan wouldn’t let me go to the barbecue last Friday due to my swollen ankles.’

A twinge that felt suspiciously like misery because she hadn’t been invited to Kookaburra’s first Friday night barbecue gripped Charlotte’s chest. Then again, nobody had needed invites, the notice had been plastered on the pub’s front window.
Family barbecue, family fare, Friday night fun
. She could have gone. Except who would she have spoken to or sat next to?