thanks, I don’t like horses. They’re dangerous.’
‘That depends on the rider. The Land Rover it is. When you’ve settled in, come over to the house to collect the keys and some money. You do have a licence?’
‘Yes. My brother taught me before he left home to join the army.’
He seems surprised. ‘OK.’
The sofa boings as I test the springs. Cal glances at my rucksack and my dirty ripped jeans. Before I even realise, I’m pushing a tangled strand of hair out of eyes, and the pink rises to my cheeks.
‘I’ll ask Polly to find you some work clothes for now and you’d better go into town tomorrow and get a few new things.’
‘I can buy my own clothes.’
‘OK, fine, but if you want an advance on your pay cheque, just shout. Right, I’ll go and fetch this bed frame.’
Half an hour later, Cal struggles over the yard with part of the bed frame on his shoulders. For a lean guy, he’s very strong. I help him carry it upstairs and then he’s off again, dumping an old TV, the fat-backed kind, on the rickety bamboo table in the corner of the sitting room.
‘You can have this if you want,’ he says. ‘My father used to watch it in bed.’
‘Good. I can watch telly later. Sherlock’s on tonight.’
‘Is it? I haven’t had chance to watch much TV lately.’ He laughs in that ‘not remotely amused’ kind of way and I feel I’ve said something stupid but I’m not sure what.
Polly bustles in with a box of bleach and a scowl on her face. ‘I’ve got some cleaning stuff but I’ll have to bring the towels and linen later. You do know there’s no bed frame up there?’ she says to Cal. ‘The old one had woodworm so I chucked it on the bonfire.’
He glares at her. ‘Then it’s a good job I’ve already found a new one.’
Polly shudders when Mitch sniffs at her ankles. ‘You needn’t think I’ll be cleaning up any dog hairs either. Scraggy thing,’ she says.
‘I’m sure Mitch feels the same way about you.’
Polly scowls.
‘Sorry,’ I say, as Cal stifles a laugh. ‘I didn’t mean to be that rude.’
‘Demi’s perfectly capable of looking after the place herself,’ he says.
Polly flounces off; grumbling, but I don’t care how much she moans. I still can’t believe that Mitch and I have a new job and a place to live.
I’m still having to pinch myself later, when I sit round the farmhouse table with Cal and Polly, soaking up the remains of a chicken curry with a piece of naan. Getting to grips with the Aga was a bit of a nightmare, especially with Polly issuing dire warnings about it.
Judging by the empty plates, they seemed to enjoy the food.
Polly stabs a piece of chicken with her fork and Cal wipes his plate round with his last piece of naan.
‘Was it OK?’ I say.
Cal nods.
‘It wasn’t bad,’ Polly says and I wonder if I misheard her. Was that a compliment? ‘Shame you let it dry out a bit,’ she adds. ‘Agas aren’t like normal cookers.’
‘I’ll get the hang of it,’ I protest.
Cal stands up and picks up his plate. ‘Finished?’
Polly gasps. ‘You’re not clearing up!’
‘Why not?’
‘She can do that. That’s why you’ve hired her.’
‘She is not a bloody skivvy, Polly, and she’s been cleaning the cottage and working all day.’
Acting innocent, I swig my beer. Cal walks round to my side of the table and stacks my plate on his. He brushes against me and smells faintly of clean sweat and beer. He’s been working all day too, helping me put the bed frame together and trying to fix the door of the barn.
‘Thanks.’ I ignore Polly’s laser stare.
‘Don’t get used to it,’ he says. ‘I don’t expect you to cook for me every night and you won’t want to eat in here all the time.’
‘I can cook tons of stuff and I don’t mind eating here.’
‘You’ll want your own space,’ says Cal, carrying the plates towards the hall.
‘Yes, you will.’ Polly casts a triumphant glance at me. I wonder what her problem is, apart from worrying about the extra work of looking after me. She needn’t bother.
I finish my beer at the dining table and let Mitch lick my curryfied fingers while Polly goes back to her cottage to watch Emmerdale. In the kitchen, I find Cal cursing and fiddling with the settings on the dishwasher.
In frustration, he stands back. ‘Jesus, you need a PhD to work it out.’
‘Here. Let me have a go.’
A few presses later, I get it to start. ‘We had two at the cafe,’ I explain.
‘Thanks. I’m going to work in the study for the rest of the evening but tomorrow I’ll get your contract sorted out. Can I ask you to be patient with Polly? She’s very protective of me. She is an old friend.’
‘I understand. I’m the newbie. It’s me that has to fit in.’
‘Thanks.’ He hesitates. ‘Will you be OK in the cottage on your own tonight? Kilhallon is a bit out of the way. You might find it too quiet and isolated.’
‘You mean, me being a city girl who can’t live without a nightclub and a Starbucks within spitting distance? It’ll be a change not to sleep in a shop doorway, and besides, I have Mitch for company. We’ll sleep like logs.’
‘Well, you know where I am if you want me or Polly. I’d better get you a phone sorted too.’
While the dishwasher burbles and Cal throws the empty beer bottles in the recycling crate, I hover by the sink.
‘Cal … thanks for the job and the cottage. I mean it.’ Damn the quiver in my voice.
‘You might not thank me when we get the business up and running. There’s going to be a lot to do. Goodnight.’
I hate to admit it, but Cal was right. I couldn’t sleep, not even with a brand new bed and a thick down duvet and my own bedroom with pink curtains. Not even when I got up and made a cup of tea in my own kitchen and sat and drank it while I watched the midnight news on my new old TV. The wind rustled the curtains most of the night and I thought I could hear the waves crashing against the cliffs across the fields.
I don’t
