Page 5 of Oz (Finding Home #1)

I stretch my legs out and enjoy the hot sunshine and the quiet.

The two people that got off the train with me have long gone, leaving me alone and starting to wonder if all this has been a joke.

I can’t summon up the energy to be worried about that after the horrendous train journey here.

If the job doesn’t pan out I might just stay here and become some sort of monument to the folly of trusting in strangers.

My thoughts are interrupted by a dirty green Land Rover pulling up in front of me. The window rolls down and I look into Milo’s anxious brown eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he says immediately. “I got stuck behind a tractor and with these narrow roads it’s impossible to get past and–”

I wave my hand and interrupt his anxious monologuing.

“It’s fine, Milo. Don’t worry about it.” I stand up and watch as he vaults out of the car and scurries around to open the boot.

I heft my case up, ignoring his outstretched hands.

“I can manage it.” I swing the case in and the car rocks slightly with the impact. He shoots me an uneasy look.

“What is in that?” he gasps and immediately looks worried that he’s offended me.

I smile at him. “Mainly shoes and–” I pause. “No, it’s mostly shoes. I’m like Paris Hilton but with far better hair and dress sense.”

He shoots me a bewildered look but shows some sense in that he doesn’t travel down my conversational cul-de-sac.

I climb into the car and pull my seatbelt around me, watching as he pulls off neatly onto the road.

I sneak a look at him. On a second glance he’s actually extremely pretty.

He’s tall and willowy with wavy hair that’s the colour of dark muscovado sugar.

However, the overriding impression is one of nervousness.

We drive in silence for a while until I start to fidget slightly. “So, tell me about the house,” I demand. A bit abruptly, obviously, because he swerves slightly. “Sorry,” I say. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Tell me what it’s like. Is it in a huge mess?”

He presses his lips together, but discretion evidently takes a back seat to indignation because his words come out in a huge rush.

“It’s a real mess. David left it in terrible order.

None of the building work is on schedule.

It’s so far behind and the house is due to open in six months.

Nothing is done. There aren’t any staff being trained.

The collections haven’t been looked after properly and nothing is being done about setting the house up for visitors. ”

He stops to take in a much-needed breath. I whistle. “Wow. Okay, that sounds … terrible.” His lip quirks, the first display of humour I’ve seen in him, so I chance more conversation. “David was the previous house manager?”

He nods and shoots me a quick look. “He was a friend of the earl.”

“Oh, okay, I get it,” I sigh and pause for thought. “Actually, that makes it worse. He’s a friend and he still left like that?”

He shifts in his seat uncomfortably and my interest sharpens. “I think they had a bit of an argument,” he mutters, taking a deep breath. “And David walked out.” He shrugs. “Good riddance. Lord Ashworth deserves a lot better.”

I’m not sure whether he’s putting down what I’m picking up, but I’m thinking the mysterious Lord Ashworth was sleeping with his house manager. “Ouch!” I say with feeling. “Been there, done that.”

His lips twitch again. “Yes, I remember that bit vividly from your interview.”

We share a look and as if synchronised we both burst into laughter. I shake my head. “I’m not normally that flamboyant.” He shoots me a disbelieving glance and I capitulate. “Okay, I totally am, but I really thought I wouldn’t have a chance at this job so I just relaxed.”

“Relaxed?” he says doubtfully. “It was like watching a really easygoing car crash.”

I grin and give him a gentle nudge. “Milo, you’re so sassy. Who knew?”

“Not me,” he says wryly.

I smile. “I think we’re going to get along together, after all.”

Lapsing into a comfortable silence, we drive down winding roads that look like green tunnels with trees hanging over them.

Occasionally he pulls over to let a car or van past. This is always done with huge civility and smiles, and on one occasion we stop so Milo and the other driver can have a quick chat.

He accelerates away, and I shake my head.

“What?” he asks.

“It’s very different from London. We’d have had several rude hand gestures by now and a lot of bellowing and swearing accompanied by the utter refusal of both parties to move until the police have to be summoned.”

He smiles. “It’s the country. It’s different here.”

“I get the feeling I’m going to hear that sentence a lot,” I say, and he grins.

We pass a high honey-coloured stone wall and the car slows.

“Is this it?” I ask, nerves suddenly fluttering in my stomach.

He nods. “We’ll go in through the side entrance which is the way the visitors will enter. It’ll give you an idea of what you’re up against.”

“Shit!” I say, and he smiles.

He pulls into a large grassy area. Ahead are some long stone buildings.

“This is the visitor’s car park,” he says, switching the engine off.

“I’m not a driver,” I say cautiously, looking around at the overgrown area. “But isn’t this more of a field than a car park?”

He shoots me a look. “Now you’re getting it.”

“Shit!” I say again.

We get out of the car and I stand for a second and breathe in. “It’s so fresh,” I say softly. “I swear the air tastes salty.”

“It does. The sea is just over there on the other side of the house. You can hear it in all the rooms.”

“How lovely.”

He shoots me a funny look. “It’s just background noise.”

“Yes. Well, so are car alarms, fire engines, and police sirens. This is better, believe me.”

He smiles. “We’ll leave your case in the boot and come back for it later. You can have a look around first.”

I shake my head and fall in next to him. “You think that I’ll take one look at all the work needing to be done and run away as far and as fast as I can.”

He shoots me a look. “Actually, I don’t,” he says slowly. “I’d have said it last week, but I don’t think you actually run away from anything.”

“It’s better to face up to everything,” I say staunchly. We approach a small, low, honey-coloured building, and step inside. I look around slowly. “Apart from this,” I say faintly. “Holy fucking shitballs!”

He laughs in a startled fashion. “Welcome to the visitor’s centre.”

I shake my head. The room is stripped back to the bare brick and the floor is open, revealing wires and pipes underneath.

There’s no glass in the windows and no workmen in sight.

“Is it a visitor’s centre for visiting sheep?

” He snorts, and we pick our way delicately over the floor to a door at the side.

“And this has got to be ready in six months?”

He nods. “This is nothing. Wait until you see–” He stops abruptly, colour staining his high cheekbones.

I stop. “Milo, for your sins I’m going to be your mentor.

” I pause and shake my head. “You must have been incredibly evil in a former life. Miss Trunchbull level.” His lips quirk in a bewildered fashion as I turn to face him.

“First mentoring lesson. When you’re dealing with me, I like the truth.

I hate being blindsided by something. Remember, face on. ”

“Face on,” he echoes dutifully. He makes a gesture as if he’s thinking of going for his notepad so I divert him.

“Where are the workmen? Dare I presume that they’re doing something dreadfully important somewhere else?”

“That would be a nice thought,” he says solemnly. “But I think they’re in the pub.”

“In the pub ? Have they had a long lunch?”

“Not so much a lunch as a whole day.” He slumps slightly. “They haven’t been here for three days.”

“And no one’s queried it?” I ask sharply.

He flinches and I make a shushing noise. “Not you. I wouldn’t expect you to be doing this. What about that Niall?”

“He’s busy at the moment.” He shrugs. “Everyone’s busy.”

“Including Little Lord Fauntleroy?” I say sharply, hating that Milo’s obviously feeling guilty.

“Is he sitting on a velvet cushion eating foie gras and waiting for the peasants to turn up and pay him money to look round the aristocratic building site?” I stare around, feeling myself build up a head of steam.

I’m not a fan of the concept of aristocracy after a few years of coming up short against them in job interviews, and this strange earl isn’t endearing himself to me at the moment.

“He didn’t even come to London to interview for a house manager.

Just got a minion to do it,” I tut crossly.

Milo looks horrified. “Oh no, Lord Ashworth is actually–”

“Milo.” The shout comes from the door and Niall appears.

“There you are,” he says abruptly and then notices me.

“Mr Gallagher,” he says, his lip twitching as he takes in my outfit of skinny jeans, battered old combat boots, and a yellow t-shirt proclaiming In My Defence I Was Left Unsupervised .

“How lovely to see you. Settling in okay?”

“Like a bear for winter,” I say sourly. Milo shoots me a horrified look but Niall just laughs. He turns back to my companion. “Can I steal you for a second, Milo? I need your opinion on these plans.”

Milo flushes and stumbles over his words and I eye him surreptitiously. So that’s where the land lies . I look at Niall, big and beautiful and arrogant, and feel a bit sad. Milo doesn’t stand a chance with this man. He’s the sort to go for confident and assured.

Niall turns to me. “Do you mind waiting for Milo, Oz? We shouldn’t be more than ten minutes.” He points to the door he came through. “If you go out that way and follow the path you’ll get to the lavender garden. Wait there and Milo will find you.”