Star guy was on the doorstep when I went out the front to shoo seagulls off the bird table. Him and a curly-haired camera guy.
‘Hey, Rhiannon. How you doing?’
‘Good thanks.’
‘Any chance of a couple of words for the Star?’
‘Yeah, I’ve got two words that would be perfect for you.’
‘Come on, throw me a bone, I’ve been in the job ten weeks and the most interesting thing has been Kids Set Fire to Furby in Precinct.’
‘I know what it’s like. I used to work for a local newspaper. Not the heady heights of crack reporting mind you – just editorial assistant.’
‘So you know what it’s like?’ he said. ‘Please. I need a scoop or they’re going to fire my ass. This is a huge story and you’re right at the centre.’
‘Too true,’ I sighed, folding my arms.
‘Please? Anything I can take back to the office? You’ll be getting your own side across. Some of the tabloids are saying you knew all along what Wilkins was doing.’
‘I did not know anything,’ I said. I noticed then he had Voice Memos recording on his phone. The camera guy was clicking. I calmed myself with a breath. ‘Tell me why I should bare my soul to you. Give me one good reason.’
He backed away. ‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s my job,’ he said. ‘This is what I do. There isn’t a good reason.’
‘Come on, give me a sob story. Why should I put you through to the second round? Dad dying of cancer? Brother out in Afghanistan? Granny just too damn nuts in the nursing home to recognise your face anymore? Tell me why I should give you my story and not the Mirror or the Express. They’ve offered me shitloads more than Pleases.’
He backed away, frowning. ‘I don’t have anything to give you. I just need a break.’ I stared him out until both he and the camera guy had disappeared through the front gate and out of my sight.
*
I have made a boo-boo – I shouted at Elaine. In fact it was worse than shouted. I jumped on the highest of horses, whipped its ass and rode it right through her. I caught her dusting around my Sylvanians country hotel in the corner of the lounge and rearranging things in the rooms.
‘DON’T FUCKING TOUCH THAT! WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING THAT?’
I didn’t mean to say it, it just splurged out. And I know they’ve been good to me and looked after me and blah de blah blah, but JEEEEEEZUS why can’t people leave my things alone?! I’m not asking too much, am I? She’d moved the front desk into the sitting room. She’d made up the bed in the cat family’s bedroom when the maid was CLEARLY on her way there to do that herself. And she’d taken out everything in the fridge and put it on the kitchen floor.
Nerve = touched.
‘Rhiannon, I was only having a look, love …’
I could see my mother’s face in hers – What’s the big deal? It’s only a few toys, Rhiannon. You’re too old for toys now.
‘You weren’t “having a look”, you were touching things! Why can’t you leave them?’ My fingers were lengthening; my breathing grew sharper the longer I looked at her blank face. The room seemed to pale away and into sharp focus came the phone cord and Elaine’s saggy neck. Wrapping it around again and again, pulling on it, squeezing it, that face going purple.
‘I’m sorry,’ Elaine blushed. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She sprinted from the room.
I took the hotel upstairs and shoved it in my closet, safe and sound. I knew it was too exposed downstairs but I had no room to display it up here. I had more Sylvanian stuff than I had clothes.
When I resurfaced, the house was quiet and there was a note on the hallway table – Elaine was at the church hall with her Christian women’s group for the craft fair and Jim was on the beach with the dog. I walked down there to find him sitting on the large rocks watching Tink sniffing in the rock pools. He didn’t mention the Sylvanians debacle at first; he started off-topic.
‘Did you look into that Airy B thing for me?’
‘Airbnb?’ I said. ‘Yeah, all done.’
‘You’ve done it?’
‘Yeah, I’ll show you later. We’ve had a few enquiries already. I think it’s looking quite good for August.’
‘Oh that’s great, thank you.’
‘No problem at all. It’s the least I can do, isn’t it?’
He smiled, looking out to sea. ‘I don’t have a clue about this internet lark. That place needs to start paying its way to keep the bank happy.’
See this is a lie pie if ever he’s baked one. One of the discoveries I’ve made about Jim since living with him is that he’s LOADED. He has quite the property portfolio. It’s another hobby – buying up shitholes and turning them into sought-after real estate. I’ve seen his bank statements. He’s got three projects on the go – a flat in Cresswell Terrace where a junkie melted into the floor, a five bed house on Temperley called Knight’s Rest where a hoarder stashed several hundred ice cream tubs of his own shit, and a holiday cottage called the Well House on the Cliff Road which has just finished being refurbed. For years it was used as a derelict meeting place for local teens to shag and break bottles. Jim asked me to put it ‘on the line’ now that it’s ready for holiday bookings.
That’s Jim’s problem, he trusts me. And I, being the gal that I am, am letting him down. I’ve put the listing up but once I’ve shown him, I will take it down again. I’ve decided I need the Well House – it’ll be my refuge. A place I can go anytime I want to eat and escape Elaine’s factoids about hot baths causing abortions and the link between obese mothers and autism.
‘Elaine mentioned you’d had a set-to about your doll’s house.’
I sat down on the lower rock next to Jim. ‘My deluxe country hotel, yes.’
‘Bit OTT wasn’t it?’
‘No.’
‘She was only cleaning it, Rhiannon.’
‘I DON’T WANT IT CLEANED.’
‘All right, all right. Cor dear, those hormones are playing up today, aren’t they?’ He laughed. He actually laughed.
I glared at him. ‘You don’t get it.’
‘Get what?’
‘After Priory Gardens, I went into a children’s rehab facility in Gloucester. It was horrible. It stank of cauliflower and farts. I was lonely. One morning, my dad and my sister went on breakfast TV to talk about it and how I was doing. Seren mentioned I liked Sylvanian Families. And I got sent so many. All the
