her alive, not how she died. Now, nearly two years after her death, he should be healing – his intention was to see if a charity shop would want the items so had set them aside – but he still couldn’t face the other boxes. Harry found the carrier bag on the top of a box. It contained make-up and skin care samples, full pots Karin hadn’t started. With the shower still running, he placed it on his bed ready for Maddy to find.
Maddy returned to the kitchen in the clothes she was wearing last night – a flowery short-sleeved blouse and three-quarter length jeans, both items covered with splodges of dried paint. ‘Thanks for the toiletries,’ she said, towelling her hair dry.
‘Not a problem. You can keep them if you like. I was only going to give them to a charity shop.’
‘Whose are they?’
An unease churned inside his stomach as he frowned, not wanting to answer. He’d turned his back on Maddy so she couldn’t see the discomfort her question had caused in his face. He wasn’t ready to talk about Karin. Not to a stranger. He popped two slices of bread into the toaster. ‘No one’s. Like I said, you can have them.’
‘Sorry, I’m doing it again. Only this time I no longer have the vodka to blame.’
Harry smiled, trying to relax. It wasn’t Maddy’s fault. ‘It’s okay, just a very long story.’
‘I could really do with some clean underwear, but I suppose you don’t have any?’
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. ‘No sorry, I can’t help there.’
***
After a small breakfast – Maddy couldn’t stomach eating much – she took her coffee into the lounge. From here she had a better view of her house and wanted to wait for the fire brigade to show up and go through the charred remains of her kitchen. Dread filled her at the amount of work ahead of her, because even if only the kitchen were damaged, the rest of the house would probably need redecorating to get rid of the smoke stains and stench.
And then there were her paintings …
The first thing she’d do when allowed back into her house was check the paintings, and then dig out her insurance details.
Last night she hadn’t taken much notice of Harry’s lounge. His dark leather sofas clashed with the pastel chintz borders around the top of the wall and the floral curtains. Maddy’s house wasn’t the only one in need of decorating.
Harry, after showering and changing, joined Maddy in the lounge with a mug of coffee, cupping it with both hands.
Last night she hadn’t taken much notice of Harry either. He created quite a presence. She tried not to stare at his bum as he walked around his lounge, his small, tight buttocks accentuated by his khaki cargo pants. Her eyes roamed upwards – because staring at his bum was totally unacceptable – to appreciate his narrow waist spreading to broad, muscular shoulders, which his black T-shirt stretched across. His clothing didn’t leave much to the imagination. He would make a fantastic life model. She gave herself a mental shake. She shouldn’t be ogling him. What was she thinking? He fancied himself, remember? This is the same guy you were rowing with, only yesterday morning. Although, he was being very nice currently, and he didn’t have to be. Last night he could have left her on the pavement outside screaming at the firefighters.
‘Do you need to go to work?’ she said.
‘I’ll call them to say I’ll be over later.’ Harry turned to face her. ‘I’ll wait with you to see the fire brigade.’
Maddy nodded. She’d already made the call to Valerie this morning while Harry was showering, who had been sympathetic. ‘Oh my dear girl,’ Valerie had said. Her casual tone had immediately sharpened to more alert when Maddy had said there had been a fire. ‘I’m so sorry I was out last night. You should have left a message.’ Last night Maddy hadn’t wanted to leave a distressed message on Valerie’s phone, though. ‘Don’t you worry about a thing with the gallery. Get yourself sorted and keep me posted.’
Maddy wished the fire brigade would hurry up. ‘I’m dreading what it’s going to look like inside,’ she said, feeling her lip quiver uncontrollably. Tears began to well in her eyes, and so she glanced away from Harry’s gaze, not wanting him to see her falter. The damage that would need to be fixed worried her. And she’d been doing so well this morning, too.
‘Hey.’ Harry sat himself down beside her, placing a hand on hers. It was warm from holding his mug of coffee. ‘This is what insurance is for. The fire brigade arrived quickly; the fire was contained in the kitchen.’
However reassuring Harry was trying to be, Maddy couldn’t help worrying. Anxiety crept up her spine and weighted itself on her shoulders. This year she needed to make the gallery successful – her business. Would the house fire destroy everything she’d tried to achieve in this past year?
Maddy heard the truck before she saw it, the morning song of the birds drowned out. One large fire truck pulled up, impressive and intimidating as it parked in the narrow street of Annadale Close. It was just after eight-thirty a.m. What must the neighbours think? With the arrival of the fire service, the police car stationed outside her house moved off, turning around at the end of the close.
‘They’re prompt,’ Harry said, heading out of the front door. Maddy put her coffee mug down and followed.
Four men jumped out of the fire truck, and each shook Harry’s hand and greeted him. It suddenly dawned on Maddy — he used to be a fireman. How else would he know this stuff, and the crew all know him? It explained his build, too. And the way he’d carried her into the house last night. It couldn’t all be down to landscape gardening. She’d noticed the impressive equipment in his second bedroom – his gym.
‘All right, Roses,’ one said, patting Harry on the back. ‘You’re looking good, my man. Collins said he’d bumped into you last night. All that weeding must be doing you good.’
Maddy’s thoughts exactly.
‘Thanks, Dixons.’ Harry laughed with the fireman.
‘We should go out for a drink sometime.’
‘I’d like that,’ Harry replied, but Maddy saw the flash of anxiety in his expression as if he wasn’t sure about socialising with these men.
A red car pulled up behind the fire engine, and the driver approached them, carrying a clipboard. He too wore a fire brigade uniform, but there was something much more formal about him.
‘Right, Miss …?’ Dixons turned his attention to Maddy after acknowledging the other man.
‘Hart,’ Maddy said, blushing with embarrassment, remembering her hysterical actions the night before. ‘And I’m so sorry for being a pain last night.’
‘Think nothing of it. Your house was on fire. Most people don’t react too well to that, miss. Our boys take it all in a day’s work.’ When he smiled, creases around his eyes gathered. It was hard to tell his hair colouring under his white helmet, but his clean-shaven face was attractive enough. Age-wise, he had to be mid-forties, Maddy guessed. ‘This is Gary. He’s
