Straight to the point. Maisie had shared at least some of his ‘colourful’ history with her parents, then. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised as the Samsons were going to have to work and live very closely with him. He didn’t mind.
‘A cousin I’ve lost touch with, some distant relatives in the UK who have probably forgotten I exist. I do have a few mates, though, who might be interested to know I haven’t been kidnapped by an irate Brit who took exception to me taking a bar job … the current climate towards foreigners being what it is.’
Hazel’s smile was about as sincere as a croc’s. ‘I don’t think you’re in any danger from the locals here on Gull.’
You could have fooled me, thought Patrick, freezing his rocks off under Hazel’s sub-zero glare. Winning her trust was going to be harder than he’d thought. ‘I wondered if there was no wife or girlfriend in Oz that you had to break the news to. She won’t be very happy you’ve decided to extend your stay here, will she? Don’t tell me there’s no woman waiting back home? You’re still young and not exactly the Hunchback of Notre Dame, now are you?’
‘What makes you think it’s a woman?’
She smiled for about a nanosecond. ‘Call it a wild guess.’
Well, thought Patrick, he had to admire Hazel’s directness. Now he knew who Maisie had inherited her feistiness from and perhaps it was better to be honest with each other than enduring months of suspicious looks.
‘You don’t have to answer if I’m being too nosy, but I look out for our Maisie. She’s had enough heartbreak lately,’ she added, although Patrick didn’t think she gave two hoots whether she was being nosy or not.
‘You’re right: there’s no partner on the scene at the moment,’ he said mildly. ‘Of either sex.’
‘Hmm. I suppose that makes sense, or you wouldn’t have come halfway round the world and left her for six months. Unless you had to leave Australia of course, and I doubt that’s the case.’ Hazel paused. ‘As for partners, you said “at the moment”. Am I right in thinking there was someone special?’
Maisie would cringe at this line of questioning but Patrick couldn’t blame Hazel. It was obvious she saw him as a threat to the equilibrium of the household. She might be right about that too, he thought, but perhaps not in the way she suspected.
‘You’re right. There was a woman, but that was a while ago now.’ The image of Tania walking out of the door slid into his mind. He waited for the slice of pain low to the gut but he felt as if he was watching that movie now, not living it. But still, an enigmatic smile was all he was prepared to give Hazel.
She nodded slowly. ‘Fine. I should mind my own business, though you’ll appreciate I like to know a little about the people who’ve come to live in our house and share our lives.’
‘I don’t blame you, though I’ve already discussed my reasons for wanting the job with Maisie. Your daughter gave me a thorough grilling when she interviewed me,’ said Patrick, still wondering exactly which details Maisie had shared with her parents.
‘I know she did. I wanted to hear it direct. Oh well, you never know who you might meet while you’re here on Gull Island,’ she said and flashed him a smile that told him Maisie was off the menu – or else. ‘Do you want another coffee or a soft drink?’ she asked, nodding at his empty cup.
‘Thanks for the offer, but no. I’ve got some more emails to send before I get ready to learn the ropes in the bar tomorrow night.’
‘OK, I’ll be getting on with my jobs, then.’
Hazel picked up the bucket and headed downstairs. Patrick waited a moment until the footsteps quietened before padding down to the bar himself. He heard the door to the staffroom open, crept forward and peered around the edge of it. He could see Hazel walking across the patio to the staff studios where Maisie was outside the first cottage with her sleeves rolled up and a pair of Marigolds on. Hazel handed over the bucket and the two women exchanged some words. They had their backs to him so Patrick ventured further into the staffroom. The window was open a crack but he couldn’t hear their conversation. He suspected from Hazel’s grim expression that it might have been about him.
He almost jumped out of his skin as the phone out in the office next to the staffroom rang out.
Maisie and Hazel immediately turned and Patrick just had time to duck out of sight. Maisie pulled off her rubber gloves before she marched towards the office. Patrick made a hasty exit back into the bar, listening around the door as Maisie answered the phone in a breathless voice. His own heart thumped. That would teach him to eavesdrop, but this was his only chance. He had to hope that Hazel wasn’t still in the garden or coming round the side of the pub, although even if she was, he could make up some kind of excuse for being outside.
As quietly as he could, he slipped out of the front door of the bar and made his way around the side of the building to the garden. The bucket was abandoned and Hazel had joined Ray at the top of the garden.
Patrick spotted Maisie through the office window, standing by the desk, talking into the cordless house phone. With one final glance to check the coast was clear, he picked up the cleaning bucket and Marigolds and slipped inside the open studio. The key was on the inside of the door and with a surge of triumph, he closed it behind him and locked himself in.
‘Patrick McKinnon. Are you in there?’
Patrick had only cleaned down the washbasin and had just thrust the brush down the toilet, when Maisie called through the front door. Damn. He’d hoped the conversation would have gone on longer than that.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I was caught short while I was on the patio,’ he called. ‘I thought you wouldn’t mind me using the loo as I’m going to be living here. I won’t be long.’
Silence.
‘OK. I’ll come back when you’ve finished.’
‘I may be a while,’ he shouted, trying to sound embarrassed.
More silence. ‘Um. Right. Sorry to disturb you. I’ll be back in a bit.’
Cruel of him, thought Patrick, but he couldn’t stop the broad smile as he squirted bleach down the loo and started to scrub with the brush. He decided he could get away with a jaunty whistle too, and figured he had at least half an hour before Maisie would dare to return, even if she dared at all. It would be long enough to get the shower room into non-toxic condition and most of the kitchenette. He checked his watch, took a cloth and bathroom spray from the bucket ready to wipe down the cistern and seat. Just in time, he remembered not to flush the loo.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно
