Page 6

Still nursing the wounds of Felix’s rejection and exhausted with concern for my aunt, I searched for something to sweeten the bitterness. Tasting some thin French chocolate biscuits from Paris, I mused on whether a friend, or even a lover had sent Aunt Ada supplies. Had she gone to stay with her friend when she went in search of the missing author? If only there was someone I could talk to about my aunt’s last couple of days before the accident. Disappointingly, Felix did not seem to know anything yet insisted everything was fine.

Reflecting on my conversation with Felix, I considered how he seemed distant. Would he even notice a change in my aunt’s mood? But then he had been kind when he noticed I was upset. Unable to fathom the situation, I bit into another stale, sweet biscuit but it did not satisfy my rumbling stomach, so I decided to go shopping. I wanted to buy a fish pie and salad to accompany it. Maybe I’d also treat myself to some rice pudding and add some spice and vanilla. Aunt Ada always insisted food could heal the soul. It was almost time for Heatherbridge Stores to close for lunch, so I dashed outside in my dusty clothes.

Having run about two hundred metres, I slowed down to a brisk walk and admired the street where I lived. The row of cottages made of the honey-coloured York stone all appeared to be leaning in different directions and chatting to each other. Each cottage in Heatherbridge village had a unique front door that made me want to step inside, particularly my next door neighbour’s bruised oak door with a faded heart wreath hanging on it. My aunt had told me a young couple lived there but were often travelling with work, so I had not met them. With no time to stop, I planned to call later to see if they had any further information about Aunt Ada. It was interesting how folk gave me information without realising it.

Campers walked out of the campsite, and I managed a friendly wave. My legs ached a little and I still had to get to the end of Ramblers Way before I reached the village.

It had been four years since I’d moved above walking speed and needed to get fit. Gasping for breath, I heard the footsteps of someone running in the woodland next to the road. A tall, skinny man in skimpy shorts and wearing a retro style headband, ran out between the trees and forced me to move into the ditch to let him pass. I was sure he dripped sweat on me as he ran past. Yuk!

‘Good afternoon,’ I said to the jogger and then whispered, ‘thanks for moving out of my way.’

There was no response. His ears were plugged in to another universe and his only concern was getting to the end of the road. I wondered if he even noticed the stunning hills surrounding him or paid any attention to the quirky details of the cottages he passed.

When I arrived at the store, the assistant had displayed the closed sign on the door. I put my hands together as if praying she would let me in.

The shop assistant’s serious face transformed into a smile as she unlocked the door. ‘Hurry!’ she said. ‘I’m just about to close for lunch. We had sixty kids here from a primary school and I need a bit of a break now. How’s the book barrow?’

‘It’s a great success. Thanks.’ Was she worried I was taking her business away? I ran to the freezer section and grabbed one of the frozen pies. There was a knock on the door from the jogger I’d seen earlier. I thought he would have been ahead of me.

‘Please unlock the door for Danny,’ asked the assistant.

Danny shook the sweat from his mass of blond frizz then wiped his forehead with his headband. I wrinkled my nose when the sweat went into my eyes.

‘Afternoon,’ he said, removing his earphones. He held out his hand. ‘I’m Danny. It’s nice to meet you, Maisie. Your aunt told me all about you. I’m sorry I haven’t called to express my condolences, but I’ve been busy with a work project.’

I hesitated before shaking the hand he had wiped on his shorts. I had to think of something to fill the awkward pause. ‘Hello. Did you have a nice jog?’

‘Oh, this is just a stopover for supplies. I run up into the hills and then complete a circular route.’ He pointed at his skinny legs. ‘My legs are used to it. I’m training for the Great Dane Run.’

He spoke so quickly and it was a moment before I realised he had said Dale. ‘Oh, very nice.’ When I stared at him, I tried not to notice the massive spot on his forehead.

Self-conscious of my gaze, he replaced the wet headband. ‘I’m your next-door neighbour,’ he announced. ‘We moved into Oak Cottage about ten months ago, but Laura went back to France. So sorry to hear about your aunt. We used to chat for hours about running and blogging. A lovely lady.’ He unwrapped a chocolate bar and stuffed it into his mouth, wiping away the strand of caramel on his chin.

I realised he lived in the house with the faded heart-shaped wreath and beautiful oak door. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘What did my aunt blog about?’ Best to just let him talk and listen for any information.

‘I’m not really sure. Didn’t you read them either?’

It had been a clumsy question, but I was trying to avoid a simple yes or no response. ‘I was too exhausted to sleep when I was training to be a teacher. I tried to keep up to date with the blog, but, you know, life got in the way.’ This was the truth, and I did feel ashamed now.

‘I get that. I never have much time either because my business is full on. I intended to invite your aunt around for a barbecue, but she left earlier than planned.’

‘I wonder why she left early?’ At the risk of sounding daft, I tried to prompt him again.

‘Ada once said she liked to go with the flow so probably changed her mind on a whim.’

‘Really? I never got that impression.’

‘We don’t always know our relatives as well as we think.’ He paid for his water and pile of sugary snacks with a contactless card that he proceeded to push down the inside of his shorts. He caught my eye when he looked up. Patting his card in his shorts he said, ‘Snug as a bug in a rug. Criminal proof too!’

‘Yeah, no one would go in there.’ I scrunched up my face.

Now we were both staring at his groin.

Shrugging his shoulders, he looked at me with amusement in his eyes.

‘Enjoy your run. I don’t think there are too many pickpockets out here. Fagin lives in London.’ I needed to end this before my face matched the post box outside the door. I had only ever spoken to Grant like this before and he was my best friend. What the hell had come over me in the country air?

He gulped some water then went outside. He ran away from me at speed as he shouted, ‘I hope you like the sign I made for you. It’s working a treat.’

‘What?’ I did not manage to say anything else and appeared to be rooted to the spot.

He crossed the road, stepped through the gate into the woods. I heard the crunch, crunch of his feet as he headed towards the hills. I saw Danny’s slight figure climb the hill. When he waved, I raised my hand again. The mischievous twinkle in his eyes had thrown me off kilter, sending some weird signals through my body but he really wasn’t my type.

*

A whiff of onions and stewed meat drifted from the oven as the meal reheated. My rumbling stomach lurched. On removing the lid of the ready meal, I realised it was liver and onions and not fish pie because I had not read the handwritten label. I covered the meal with fresh salad and salad cream. I took a huge gulp of wine, but it was sickly sweet like honey. To add insult to injury, I had paired the liver and onions with dessert wine. Perfect! I drank water and decided to eat the sticky toffee pudding with the wine. Unable to phone Grant as he was working, I switched on the laptop and began to scan social media.

Tired of reading Facebook posts about my long-lost friends with their partners, I searched for my aunt’s website and found Pages of Other Worlds . The website told me about her editing services, book blog and review policy. I clicked on some of the reviews. It was all positive, visual and professional. I knew she reviewed books but had no idea of the extent. Why hadn’t I paid attention before? There were so many comments from authors about the support she had given them.

My phone beeped and I opened a photo from Grant. He was outside a manor house dressed in breeches, tailcoat, cravat and high waisted coat. I had to admit his tailored silhouette was rather handsome.

‘Grant Calling’ appeared on my phone screen. ‘ Bonjour, zis eez Poirot, mademoiselle, I just had a thought. Could Running Man be controlling the blog and hiding stuff? Perhaps he knows more than he is letting on.’

I laughed. ‘Bonjour, handsome! Running Man is called Danny, and why on earth would he do that?’ A sixth sense told me Danny was trustworthy. ‘No way! Anyway, he seemed like he was in his own little world.’ I avoided details of my eyes lingering on Danny’s nether regions because I did not want to admit the fresh air seemed to be doing something to me.

‘ Oh là là , you like zis Danny, I can tell. I can’t believe how many suitors there are in a small village. Men are like buses. You wait for ages then suddenly they all arrive at once. Now, don’t go telling them off in a burst of fury.’

I continued to stare at the picture of my aunt on the screen of the computer. Grant was right, I frightened Matt when I told him off about his irritating habits in one massive swoop. I endured the constant stream of gaming buddies messing up the house but snapped when one of the geeks broke my favourite mug. A pause told me Grant was disappointed with the lack of details, so I said, ‘Running Man’s shorts were so skimpy, I had to focus on the spot on his forehead.’

‘Tell me more. Did your eyes feast on his toned body?’ His voice was soft to lull me into some gossip.

‘No. He’s tanned but quite skinny. He’s nothing like Matt.’

‘Oh, hunky Matt. I’d almost forgotten about him, and he wasn’t your type in the end. Pretty boy but a bit dull. And he was always playing with his joystick.’ He giggled. ‘I knew it was bad news when I saw his superhero pants drying on the radiator. Real superheroes don’t need souvenir pants.’

‘My god, you saw those,’ I said, hoping he had not seen my matching knickers Matt bought me for my birthday. Scowling at the thought of that horrible present, I grappled for something to say. ‘Danny’s more like a skinny version of a young John McEnroe.’ I considered the photo of my aunt in front of her potting shed as I waited for Grant to respond. Her face beamed as if she knew the photographer was in love with them.

‘Hello, are you there or dreaming of Danny Boy?’ He sang a verse of Danny Boy in a beautiful baritone .

‘Bravo!’ I shouted.

‘Why, thank you, thank you.’ He paused . ‘So, Who’s John McEnroe?’

‘You know, the US tennis player with the headband. He was famous in the seventies and eighties. My mother is a fan and has books about him. Google it.’

‘Wow! Tennis player. He’ll have great endurance then.’ He adopted an exaggerated nasal tone when he spoke. ‘Oooh, Maisie. You’re naughty but I like you.’

‘Mmm. That’s right,’ I responded.

‘Maisie Bloom. Are you listening to me? You need to get your eyes open and find opportunities.’

‘Grant, will you please stop insisting I find love. I’m happy here and don’t need a lover to show Matt I’m OK without him.’ But the sight of him holding hands with Connie had forced me to scurry into a shop doorway because he hated signs of affection in public with me.

‘You’re the one who complains about losing friends to their lovers. Besides, your aunt told you not to end up alone, and I feel like we must respect her wishes. Love isn’t going to knock on your door. Are you listening?’

‘Sorry, I’m just looking at her website on my laptop. I feel sad Aunt Ada passed away, but her blog followers are unaware of this news. When I read it, it is as if she is still here.’ I longed to contact her blog followers. I clicked on her reading list and noticed Lonely Heights was on there. There was a photo of the book cover and information about an upcoming blog tour.

‘Hello, hello. Earth to Maisie. You’ve been different in that weird village with the Eyebrow and Running Man. Darcy may have to rescue you soon. You need a love doctor. Ada wouldn’t want you to be miserable.’

‘I don’t need an interfering love doctor. What’s wrong with serendipity?’

‘Nothing if you want to spend all your time waiting for something to happen. Hello, are you still there?’

‘Yes. I was just thinking about Aunt Ada and what happened to the man she was in love with. Did she ever see him again?’

‘Probably not because she didn’t have a love doctor. Now, cheer up. You sound so serious since you went into the wild. I hope you’re remembering to shave everything. Pour yourself some wine and sleep tight. Some Japanese tourists have paid for an evening with Darcy, and I need the spending money. I need to get back to work now.’

Still laughing at Grant, I sat back on the kitchen chair and tried a little more of the dessert wine with a huge bar of dark chocolate. The bitterness of the liver still lingered so I let the chocolate melt slowly to take away the taste. If only I had asked my aunt more about her life. She was always so interested in what I was doing and never talked about herself. I skimmed the online news articles about the boating accident again and reassured myself her name was not on the list of passengers who passed away. In the Yorkshire Times there was a photo of my aunt, and it claimed her bag was found on the riverbank in Paris. Frowning, I tried to work out the significance of this.