The Fix Up, page 7
“Nah, some of it can go in the garage.” He lifted a mountain bike out and leant it on a convenient bush. “I only bought the important stuff, the rest is in my garage. Soon get it all sorted, you’ll see. I reckon the place will be ready in three, four weeks but you know insurance companies, builders…”
“Yes, well. What do you need with seven pairs of trainers and three boxes of books?” she asked as he passed the footwear to her and hefted the boxes in his arms. “You can only wear one pair at once and read one book at a time.”
“You sound like my mum, who thinks one pair of anything is enough. As for Donna…” He grinned, obviously amused. “She’d be asking where the rest is. Books, though, how many books do you have?” He put the boxes on the floor of his room.
“That’s not the point,” Arietta said defensively. “I live here.”
“So do I, for now.” He straightened and stretched so his T-shirt crept up and showed an admirable washboard-flat stomach. “Seriously, they’re ones I hate leaving in an empty house. Some first editions and some old favourites that are now out of print. I do read them over and over when I can. Trainers because they all work for different things. Leisure, jogging, squash…” He rolled his shoulders and groaned. “Getting old, I need to do some exercise. We could follow the boot camp workout I do, if you fancy. Though I might need another pair—”
“Okay, I get it,” Arietta said hastily. She didn’t need chapter and verse. “I’ll find you a bookcase and a shoe rack and pass on the boot camp. I’m not a fan of self-torture.”
“Chicken.”
“Cluck cluck and remember who your landlady is.”
“Yes, miss. Sorry, miss.” Moss got on his knees and clasped his hands together in front of his face. “Please forgive me…”
She sniggered. “As long as you do the dirty stuff. And take the bins out.”
“Hard taskmaster. However…” Moss stood up and lifted her off her feet. “Ohhh, dirty stuff. Elucidate.”
“Your trainers for one.”
“Not dirty,” he protested, albeit with a smirk on his face. “Just well lived in.”
“If you say so, now put me down, you eejit, and let’s hurry. It looks like it’ll rain any minute.”
“Half hour tops,” Moss said as he passed Arietta the first box.
By the time the van was emptied, the rain had started and she was ready for a shower and a glass of wine. Moss kissed her cheek. “You’re a star. You have your shower, I’ll open the wine.”
* * * *
“Do you know some woman, around fifty, dark brown hair and a beaky nose?” Moss asked after he’d also showered and they were sitting in the lounge and watching the swarms of midges through the window. “Awful dress sense, though I suppose that might be down to what I like and what she does. Had a mop of a dog on a lead and a loud hectoring voice.”
“Josephine Lovell, the vicar’s wife,” Arietta said resignedly. “The dog is called Milton. What did Josephine do?”
“Waved me down, told me this was a dead end, a private road, so I would be trespassing. Was I lost, where was I heading for and could she help me. I told her yes I knew, no such thing as trespass in Scotland, no I wasn’t and why did she want to know and I needed no help. Then I revved the engine, she took a jump back, slipped and landed on her bum and said I was intimidating her. I managed not to say the boot was on the other foot, and merely asked if she was lost? She gibbered a bit, then rambled on about how familiar I looked. Which, as I don’t usually wear my hair this long, drive in sunnies on a cloudy day or drive a white van, was a bit disconcerting. At least she didn’t say I sounded familiar. I was using a Geordie accent.”
“That’s Josephine. She’s the village gossip and has to know everything. Most people can’t find out how to get out of her clutches unscathed. I reckon if anyone wanted to play away around here they’d have no chance. Did she ask you if you played a blue alien as well?”
“She did. Does she have a penchant for them? She was most disgruntled when I asked why.
“She would be.” Arietta got up and wandered around the room, suddenly restless. Everything seemed to be rushing ahead at an alarming pace, and it unsettled her. All she wanted was a quiet life. It didn’t seem she was going to have it for the foreseeable future. “She asked me the same thing after your first visit. I said you were a friend of a friend. I suppose we better sort out a story for you being here.”
“Why?” Moss asked. “It’s no one’s business but ours.”
“Have you ever lived in a village?”
He shook his head. “Not a villagy village, no. Near one, in one that was more of small town, but as a fully paid-up full-time member of that society I was away a lot, so, then, no.”
“If you had, you’d not ask that,” Arietta said. “Most of the time it’s a good thing that people care about each other. Like when I had the flu and the postie realised she hadn’t seen me and shouted through the letterbox to ask if I was okay. Then brought my messages for me.”
“Messages?” Moss queried. “You’ve lost me.”
“Sorry, shopping. Scottish word. Like a jag for a jab and so on, and Jai for the letter Jay.”
Moss looked bemused but nodded. “Ri…ight.”
Arietta sniggered. “It’s okay, I’ll translate when need be. So the postie—postman, well postwoman, actually—keeps an eye on people and houses as she goes around her route. I tend to see her and wave, as it’s the least intrusive way of showing I’m okay.”
“I love it,” Moss said sincerely. “But why do we need a story?”
“Do you really want a queue at the gate?” Arietta asked. Moss blanched and she nodded. “Exactly. I might not get out and about a lot—my choice—but when I do I hear things. And evidently you’re high up on the list of blokes who would be the best to spend a night with.” Arietta grinned. She wouldn’t add that she’d found it hard to appear blank and uninterested and only just managed to act not really interested… “Guess who’s in the top three?”
“Me?”
She nodded. “Yup, along with someone called Rock Cafferty and Colin Firth. The queues would be endless.”
“Did you take part in making up the list?” Moss asked in a speculative voice and put on a hopeful expression. “You’ve realised it?”
Arietta laughed. “Nope, nothing to do with me.”
He sighed and patted his chest. “Ah well, I can live in hope. What next then?”
“Someone will recognise you if you’re about, and I doubt you want to stay indoors all the time when you’re here?”
Moss shuddered. “You’re right there, babe. But d’ya think I’ll be seen as an actor bloke here, like? When I’m just a mate of a mate from uni who is working as a gofer on some fillum thing?”
The accent was pure Geordie, and so unlike his normal voice that Arietta blinked. “Okay, now I know why they pay you the big bucks, but can you keep it up?”
“Why, ae, man.”
“Then, Geordie, let’s see how it goes.”
“Gan on. Any cake left?”
“For someone as fit as you, you can’t half pack it away.” Arietta headed for the kitchen and the cake tin. She’d have to bake again the next day and make twice as much as normal at that rate.
“I need to keep my strength up, a growing lad.”
“Out as well as up, at this rate.” Arietta picked up the last of the fruitcake she’d baked the day before and returned to the lounge. “Here you go. Lots of calories in every bite.”
“I’ll run it off. As Geordie Armstrong, gofer to the stars. And I’ll bake next time. I make a mean banana bread.”
“I’ll add bananas to the shopping list.”
“Great stuff. Shall we go and shop tomorrow? In the village?” Moss said. “We might as well start as we mean to go on. I’m your lodger, and they’ll see me around and about. Then I’ll become part of the scenery.”
With a physique like his, and the commanding presence he unconsciously projected, Arietta doubted that.
“I’ll make a list.”
Chapter Five
“That was fun.” Moss shouldered the rucksack he’d unearthed from his wardrobe and took one of the shopping bags from Arietta. He’d insisted they walk to, as he said, get Arietta outside, and to smell the daisies. “I loved the way your friend did her best not to appear nosy, and quizzed you about me at the same time.”
Arietta grinned. “Maggie said you were a bit of all right, and when you went to choose the bananas asked if your accent send shivers down my spine.” She hadn’t meant to share that, but somehow it didn’t seem natural to keep it to herself. Maggie had also added, with an audacious wink, that if he was the friend she was going to the wedding with, to remember the expression ‘with benefits’ and pack some condoms. Arietta almost blurted out that she’d already checked she had some and that they were in date. That brought her up short. She’d been determined not to let Moss get under her skin, hadn’t she? She’d been going to be friendly but stay distant.
That hasn’t lasted long. Arietta made a mental note to be careful how she acted and what she said. He was a temporary house guest, a pretend lover-to-be, and once his own house was habitable or he needed to head north for the film he’d be off and she’d get her spare room back. Then after the wedding they would go their separate ways, life could go back to normal and she could resume her usual habits.
Why did that not sound as appealing as she’d thought it would?
“Anyway, I did the wide-eyed ‘you what’ look and then said very confidently that I’d never noticed as my mate at uni had the same accent,” Arietta continued in a hurry. She wasn’t going to say anything to make it appear as if she were interested in him. “Then I added I’d be sure to listen more carefully what you answered when I asked if you wanted mash or jacket with your dinner. She said I was hopeless, I said afraid so, and she said if only she was single. But not one word about Amos Kirby.”
“Great stuff.” Moss nodded to Josephine Lovell, who stood and stared at them from the other side of the road. “Morning. Nice day, isn’t it?”
Josephine dropped her dog’s lead, picked it up and cleared her throat. “Er, yes. You didn’t say you knew Arietta.”
“Nope.” Moss sketched a wave and turned to Ari. “Nor did you. Ha‘way, love, shall we gan on?”
“Bye, Josephine.” For once Arietta wasn’t bothered about seeming rude. As her brother often said, ‘give back what you get’…
Or, less subtly, Karma will up and bite you in the bum. Judging by Josephine’s astounded look, Karma had just done that.
“How awful we are,” Arietta said as they turned down the track to the cottage. “It was very rude. Why do I not feel repentful? Is that even a word? You know what I mean.”
“She doesn’t deserve your repentance,” Moss replied. “Full or not. Now if she’d been polite it would be different, but she wasn’t. I’m guessing she uses her status as the vicar’s wife to bulldoze everyone into doing what she wants. Wouldn’t matter if her spouse was the vicar, the doctor or the bin man, she’d use it to her advantage somehow. Yes?”
Arietta thought about it. “That’s about right. She’d love for Lionel to be higher up in the church so she could really lord it over us.” Her choice of words hit her and she sniggered as Moss bit back a snort of laughter. “Maybe not the correct expression, but you get the gist.”
“I get it. Why, though? I mean, whatever your family, husband or partner is doesn’t define you,” Moss said. “Does it?”
“Not in my book, but Josephine thinks differently. From what I gather…” She slanted a glance of mischief towards Moss. “And I’m not really in on all the gossip, so this is goodness knows how many hands, she’s a younger child of a minor member of the aristocracy. According to someone who knows her family, they lived the rich life for years, never worried about money, did exactly as they chose. Papa lost his money in the Lloyd’s crash in the early nineties so boy, was the new life they had to lead a shock to the system. Up until then she’d lived a hunting, shooting, fishing existence and suddenly, poof, Papa was downsizing. The result being Papa and then the rest of the family all had a chip on their shoulder, at the way their lives had changed. They were, it was rumoured, told they would have to, shock, horror, work for a living.” She rolled her eyes and Moss chuckled.
“Oh my, what next?”
“Josephine grabbed Lionel before he had a chance to say amen, and her brother, Jonathon, took himself off to Canada where, as far as I know, he met a bloke, and they live in Alberta. Her younger sister, Jacqueline, was already married and was living the high life with her banker husband. Still is. Josephine thought the church better than any other profession or vocation and tries to tell everyone that at every opportunity. And stick her nose in everywhere as well. She’s well-meaning but just hectors and lectures so everyone closes in and ignores her good bits.”
“Unhappy lady,” Moss observed. “Even so, I’m still not taking any nonsense from her. Let her wonder. We’ve got enough to worry about what with bloody midges, whether my Geordie accent will hold up—it will—and whether you’re going to get your book sent away before your deadline—you better. On which note, I’ll cook, you write and we’ll have an assignation in the sunroom at six.”
Which seemed to set the pace of their relationship, or whatever it was. Arietta wasn’t certain. It remained friendly and unthreatening, which was what she wanted…wasn’t it?
She wasn’t sure anymore.
Whoever was least tired—usually her—cooked, and the other set the table. On the nights Moss knew he’d be late, Arietta left a casserole or some homemade soup in the bottom, warming oven of the Aga. Both things Moss admitted he could eat at any time and all year long, they were easy to make and keep warm. On the odd day he wasn’t needed or was home early, Moss cooked and they ate the sort of food that had to be thought about. As it wasn’t her cooking, Arietta appreciated how nice it was. She would have been happy with beans on toast if need be, but admitted Tournedos Rossini, Seafood Risotto or Surf and Turf, all Moss’ favourites to cook, were preferable.
Over time, Arietta realised, it had become the norm to grab his linen bin and wash his boxers and shirts with her undies and blouses. She told him each night if it was lights or darks for the wash the following day and found the appropriate clothing at the top of his dirty linen. He stripped and remade his own bed and even did his own ironing. In general, he was the perfect houseguest.
Almost.
Apart from the little fact that he never stepped out of line and never showed if he now thought of her as anything other than Thomas’ sister and his landlady. Which might be a bit of a problem at the blasted wedding, the date of which was growing ever closer. Why, when at first he’d appeared eager to put their friendship on a closer level, did she now feel he had changed his mind?
She wasn’t going to ask. She wasn’t that needy.
One evening as they sat either side of the kitchen table, doing the daily crossword and waiting for a steak pie to cook, Moss looked over at her.
“Arietta, I have to ask. Do you think you might in time fancy me a wee bit, or am I barking up the wrong tree and you think I’m minging?”
She blinked. Choked on the mouthful of wine she was drinking and suffered him patting her back. “Of course you’re not rotten or nasty,” she said when she got her breath back and was able to speak coherently. “I thought you didn’t fancy me. You’ve been so distant lately, I thought the fancying bit was all part of the act, so you weren’t going to do anything about it.”
“Damn.” He hit his forehead. “Talk about crossed wires. I thought any advances, or whatever you want to call them, wouldn’t be appreciated. Maybe we set a new rule, as in ‘ask, don’t worry’?”
“That sounds good to me,” Arietta said. She ignored the warning in her mind that said no entanglement, no sex, no complicating things. “I tell you, it’s been hard.”
“Don’t I know it,” Moss said. “You agree we move on to stage two?”
She nodded. Whatever that was.
“Then let’s start by going to the pub. Geordie could do with a night out. I’ll take wor lass and we’ll gan pubbin, eh?”
* * * *
It was quiz night and the pub was packed. Arietta hovered in the doorway, undecided whether to turn tail or dive in. However it seemed Moss was made of sterner stuff. “Come on,” he said in a low voice. “No cluckin’ chickens, let’s go astound people. Look, isn’t that Maggie who has the good taste to fancy me over there beckoning us? That’s a great place to start, and there’s seats.”
Arietta followed his pointing finger to where Maggie was indeed pointing to two empty chairs. “Are you okay with that? We’ll be full-on view for nosiness.”
“Get it over and done with, then it’s finished. I’ll just be your mate Geordie for now. Red or white?”
If he thought that would be it, she had a bridge to sell him. However, Maggie and Doug were good friends and they could talk things over with them sooner rather than later if Moss was willing. “Ah, oh, white, and crisps maybe?”
“Gotcha. Go grab the seats.”
Arietta nodded and threaded her way between tables and an assortment of chairs and stools to the back wall where Maggie and her husband, Doug, had bagged a table that had two empty chairs next to it.
“Wow, great you’re here,” Maggie said as Arietta took off her jacket and draped it over the back of her chair. “We were worried sick we’d be stuck with Josephine and Lionel, who tend to come in at the last minute. We hate it. JoJo shouts everyone down without raising her voice, if you get me.”
Arietta nodded. “With spades. She’ll kill you if she hears you calling her that, Maggie. Sounds like a budgie.”
Doug spluttered into his beer. “Pretty Joey, pretty Joey,” he said in a sing-song voice.
