Page 12 of Oz (Finding Home #1)

Chapter

Five

I need to let loose

TWO WEEKS LATER

Oz

I look around the stable block and raise my eyebrows. “This looks fantastic, Mr Johnson.”

“Oh, Oz, please call me Barry.”

I laugh and push his elbow gently. “You’re such a joker, Barry.”

A couple of his men look askance at this, but he just smiles. “It has been said.” He looks around at the room which looked like it belonged on the set of a disaster movie a few weeks ago. Now, it’s freshly plastered with windows letting the sun stream in over the varnished wooden floors.

He gestures me over. “The counter will go here and the kitchen fitters come tomorrow. You happy with everything so far?”

I squint as I look around. “It’s looking good.” I shoot him a look. “So tomorrow it’s on with the visitor’s centre then?”

His lip quirks. “Yes, Oz, and not via the pub.”

“Thank you, Barry,” I say sedately, and he huffs a laugh.

Obviously feeling our conversation is at an end he turns to his men. “Okay, grab your gear. Next step is the visitor’s centre.”

They hasten to obey and within minutes they’ve cleared out, leaving Milo and me standing in the wide-open space. “What do you think?” I ask. “Have I forgotten anything?”

“Not likely,” he says, staring around. “I can’t believe it’s done.”

I shrug. “It’s not exactly a miracle. Just people doing what they’ve actually been paid to do.” I shake my head. “I sometimes think that people view that sort of thing as old fashioned and I can’t work out why.”

“Because you’re very straightforward,” he says simply and grabs the plans from the table by the door. “So, what’s next?”

“Tomorrow we’ll be here all day with the fitters.” I grab my diary to leaf through the crammed book and check my watch. “It’s nearly three. Why don’t you finish early and bugger off?”

“Are you sure?” he asks, startled. “David didn’t like me to finish early.”

“I’m not David,” I say grimly. “And it seems that’s a good thing, as he apparently didn’t like to actually start work at all. You’ve worked hard. Take off.”

“But haven’t you got stuff to do?”

“Yes, but it’s just paperwork and I don’t need anyone’s help with that. I just like to get things in order for the next day.” I look at his earnest face. “If it helps, I’ll sit outside and go through it.”

He smiles. There’s very little trace of the worried man I’d met a month ago. “Okay, as long as we’re in agreement. I’ll drop the plans off in the office first.”

“We are. Go. Off with you.”

He pats my shoulder and is gone very quickly.

I gather my diary and look around again.

It’s amazing what a difference a few weeks have made.

It hasn’t been easy. The other builders are, by and large, fairly hostile at having their freedom curtailed, but after a few run-ins they now keep a wary distance, which suits me. I’ve got no patience with lazy people.

I nod with satisfaction and tick a few items on my main list. Then, shutting the door behind me, I amble out into the gardens with Chewwy at my heels.

These are beautiful in the late afternoon sunshine.

They spread and surround the house, but my favourite, apart from the lavender garden, is the Lady’s Walk along the side of the house.

This was used by the women of the house as a secluded place to walk and get fresh air, and it’s a low-walled piece of paradise filled with scented plants that fill the air with perfume.

However, the real attraction lies in its direct view of the sea which lies to the west of the house.

You can walk or sit on an old iron bench and watch the restless waves.

Silas’s land sweeps down to it and Milo told me the beach belongs to him too.

Apparently, there’s a path leading down, but I’ve not found that yet.

Every evening before dinner I’ve wandered the grounds with Chewwy, taking any path that takes our fancy and getting a feel for the house and land.

I think I’m falling in love because it seems the most beautiful place on earth to me.

Nestled in the green grounds, the windows are always open to the sound of the surf, and sand lays a gritty film over everything.

The house itself seems to shelter me and I wander its staircases that take me here and there like a traveller that’s come home after a long time away.

I shake my head. This is just brilliant. All the feels for somewhere I’ll be leaving in a few months.

I traipse through the old wooden door set into the wall, pausing to blink as I come out into the full afternoon sunshine. Then I stop dead, staring with my tongue hanging out at the newest addition to my secret place.

Silas is there, pushing an ancient old mower up and down the grass. He’s obviously been there a while because half of the walk lies in neat manicured lines. It’s another hot afternoon as England basks in the heatwave that’s been going on for a couple of months and shows no sign of stopping.

He’s wearing tatty trainers and disreputable old shorts that hang from his narrow hips and show off the wonderful Adonis belt whose lines are so defined.

However, my attention is all on the fact that he’s shirtless.

My mouth fills with saliva and I swallow hard at the sight of all that olive-toned skin before me.

He has wide shoulders and the muscles in his arms bulge as he pushes the mower.

Sweat glistens on his skin and his wide chest which is covered in thick dark hair.

I resist the urge to either moan or touch myself because a hairy chest is my kryptonite.

It’s led me into many situations, some of which I won’t discuss, but I can’t deny the draw.

I shake my head. This is like someone rifled my head for my best porny fantasies and set Silas neatly down in front of me.

I must have made a sound because his head shoots up and he jumps. “Shit! You startled me.” He smiles, reaching and turning the mower off.

“You look hot,” I blurt out, my voice thick.

An intense look crosses his face before he grins and strikes a pose. “Why, thank you, Oz. I can’t deny it’s been said before.”

I shake my head, the heat thankfully banking a little at his humour. “Was that from the members of the idiot club?”

He throws his head back and laughs loudly. “Many, many members, Oz. If you’re interested, their general meeting is next week.”

“I’ll make a note of it and bake some cheese straws. I don’t want to miss that.” I smile at his laugh before reason slowly returns. “Why are you mowing?” I ask. “Haven’t you got gardeners for that?”

He looks a little embarrassed. “Sid’s back was bad so I offered to do it.”

“I bet his back was bad,” I mutter, thinking of the lazy older man who can usually be found lying down in the apple orchard. “He spends enough time lying on it.”

He shakes his head, looking earnest. “No, it really is bad and he’s been with us a long time.”

“Let me guess,” I sigh. “He was nice to you as a child.”

He nods, flags of red on his cheeks. “Yes, he always used to sneak me and Henry food when we’d been sent to our rooms.”

I shake my head, wanting to both shout in frustration and also kiss him really hard. “This place is a little bit like a retirement home.”

He immediately shakes his head. “Oh no, it’s fine. I don’t mind. Most of the staff are old and I don’t mind helping out.”

“Didn’t you get in at one this morning?”

He shoots me a look because I know this.

I did, after all, wait up for him. He doesn’t know that, of course.

He thinks I was doing paperwork. However, as I’ve done for the last few weeks, I cooked him something and we sat talking and laughing for an hour.

It’s become our routine and it’s something I secretly look forward to far too much.

I’ve grown to love that late dead time when the whole house is quiet and it’s just us.

To have his attention on me, his tired face lighting up when he comes through the door, is too much.

I know I’m storing up trouble but I can’t seem to stop.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts. “I’m going to get you a drink.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to,” he immediately and predictably protests.

“I know I don’t,” I say patiently. “Please allow people to do something for you.”

I wander off and add another item to my master list: Figure out the gardener problem to stop Silas from killing himself.

Silas

A few days later I wander reluctantly down to the dining room.

Last night’s dinner had been stupendous in its awfulness.

Mrs Granger had made a shepherd’s pie, but I think even a starving shepherd would have struggled with it.

The meat was half cold, the gravy congealed, and the potatoes hard.

I’d taken one bite and switched to drinking my dinner in the form of red wine.

Oz had blanched and caught my eye in a moment of shared hilarity. He’d then stuck to bread and butter. Milo had eaten the whole thing placidly and with no sign of discomfort. However, I’ve eaten at his family home and their cook makes Mrs Granger look like Delia Smith.

I look up as Niall falls into step beside me. “I haven’t seen you all day. Busy one?” I ask.

He grunts. “The busiest. A meeting this morning with the tenants, and this afternoon the fence came down in the bottom field and some of the deer got out.”

“Did you get them all back?”

He nods. “After an hour chasing them. They were like Bambi on fucking acid.”

I laugh but then we come to the door and by mutual accord we both stop and draw in deep bolstering breaths. “You ready?” he mutters.

“No,” I say honestly. “But it’s got to be done.”