Page 34 of The Lucky Winners

Merri

I turn the radio on and Oasis are playing, one of Paige’s favourite bands. I wonder how she’s doing at the house and rattle off a quick text asking how she is.

The gate bell rings as I’m unpacking another box.

I wipe my hands on my jeans, brushing off the dust. It’s been just over a week since we moved in, and the house still feels more like a project than a home.

I glance at the clock: it’s not yet ten.

Dev’s gone into town to get some bits and bobs we need and probably won’t be back for another hour or so.

I push the security intercom to speak and a tall man with broad shoulders and dark hair crackles into view. Simon.

I buzz him through, and when I open the door, Simon shifts his feet and tucks his hands into his pockets. He smiles, the same easy, crooked smile he had when we met at his place last night.

Then the smile disappears and his eyebrows knit together. ‘Hey, Merri,’ he says. ‘How are you? Tilda told me what happened. Sorry to hear it.’

‘Thanks. It was a shock when we got back.’ I blow my fringe out of my eyes, wishing I’d put a bit of make-up on this morning. Tilda always looks so immaculate. It must be a shock to his system to see the state of me. I step back. ‘Sorry, come in.’

‘Place is really starting to look like your own now.’ He steps into the living room, looking around at our possessions scattered here and there.

He walks a few steps past me and stands in front of the windows.

He’s loose-limbed and relaxed and at least a foot taller than I am.

He stares at the scratched glass. ‘Jeez. Someone really went to town.’

‘You should’ve seen it before the red paint got cleaned off. The new glass is on order, should be replaced in the next couple of days.’

‘Must be vindictive locals. You rang the police, I assume?’

I nod. ‘We reported it and they gave us a crime number for insurance purposes. They haven’t been out. They said to take pictures and call them back if we get any more problems.’

‘Hmm, that’s poor. Sign of the times, though, I’m afraid.’ Simon frowns, looking out to the terrace. ‘Is Dev around?’

‘No, he’s out working through a list of stuff we need now we don’t live in a shoebox.’ I grin. ‘Not sure when he’ll be back. What a shame the night came to an end like this. We really enjoyed seeing you and Tilda.’

‘Yes, it was good.’ Simon shifts his weight, glancing past me at the half-unpacked mess behind me. ‘I just came by to pick up the adjustable wrench I lent Dev. He said he’d only need it for a day, but I’ve got a stubborn wheel nut I need it for.’

I try to remember if Dev has said anything about borrowing a wrench. I’m sure he hasn’t. ‘Oh, right. Maybe it’s in the garage, let me check.’

‘There’s no rush,’ Simon says, moving well away from the door. ‘Mind if I get a glass of water? It’s a warm, dusty walk up here.’

‘Yes, course. Sorry!’ I hesitate. ‘Would you like a coffee, too? Dev ground some fresh beans earlier.’

‘Sounds good,’ Simon says, walking to the windows and looking out.

My eyes are drawn to his profile. His strong, square jaw.

I pour him a glass of water and set it on the counter before starting up the coffee machine.

I take out two Denby mugs, part of a set given to us by a friend of Dev’s three years ago as a wedding gift.

While the coffee is brewing and Simon is sipping his water, I remember seeing Dev fiddling around under the sink, so I crouch down and have a rummage. After a few moments, I spot a wrench, half buried under a heap of cleaning cloths.

‘Is this what you’re looking for?’ I stand up and turn to find Simon watching me with an intensity I wasn’t expecting. His eyes meet mine and, for a second, I feel a ripple of something shift in the air between us.

‘Thanks,’ he says, taking it from me. His fingers brush against mine and I get a discreet whiff of sandalwood scent.

‘I’ll sort out the coffees,’ I mumble, heading across the kitchen, my face full of heat.

I swear I can feel his eyes on my back as I go.

‘Let’s sit outside,’ I suggest, leading him to the terrace a few minutes later.

The sun hangs low over the garden, casting everything in its warm, golden light.

We settle into Adirondack chairs, both of us quiet for a moment, sipping our drinks.

But I don’t feel relaxed in his presence: the silence is too charged, like the air just before a storm.

‘What a place you have here, Merri.’ His eyes sweep over the garden, then return to me. ‘You’re living the dream. You really are.’

‘It is incredible, but you and Tilda have a beautiful home too,’ I say. ‘Your place has got so much character, and it’s beautifully furnished. You’ve both done a great job.’

Simon laughs, a short, humourless sound. ‘Yeah, well, it’s not really a joint project. I can’t take any credit. Tilda’s got the eye for that kind of thing. I just do the heavy lifting.’

‘Oh, I’m sure that’s not true.’

His gaze lingers on me. ‘I’m stronger than I look, you know.’

I think he’s flirting with me, but I’m so out of practice, I can’t tell for sure. I force a smile and busy myself with staring into my coffee, letting the steam cloud my thoughts.

I clear my throat. ‘Well, it sounds like Tilda’s lucky to have you around.’ My voice emerges a little too breezy to disguise the uneasy feeling winding through me.

Simon doesn’t respond straight away, just keeps watching me with that same odd intensity. It’s like he’s daring me to respond, pushing at a boundary I didn’t realize we’d drawn. It feels a bit off, like stepping on to unstable ground.

I remind myself that I’m happy with Dev, that whatever Simon’s playing at isn’t my problem.

I became good friends with Dev before our connection developed into something more.

We met at Christmas, in a bar, both of us with other friends.

He was someone I could talk to easily, someone who made me laugh.

We met for coffee a few times, went to the cinema, that sort of thing.

Our casual meet-ups stretched over a few months.

Then I caught myself noticing the way he looked at me, the way his hand lingered just a second longer when he passed me something. I started seeing him as an attractive man, a potential lover.

It was like a slow-burning fire I hadn’t realized was spreading. And by the time I did, there was no going back.

‘You’re liking it here so far?’ he asks, shifting the conversation away from Tilda.

‘What’s not to like?’ I laugh, giving a nod to the view and the expanse of water that chills my blood. ‘It’s early days, but the neighbourhood seems nice, apart from what I’m praying was an isolated incident. Everyone’s been friendly. It’s just … difficult. Getting used to somewhere new, I mean.’

Simon is staring out at the garden but not really looking at it.

‘Friendly, yeah. We’ve been here for nearly three years and I’m not sure they’ll ever accept us as locals.

It’s like a badge of honour if you’re born and bred here, although they’re nice enough once they get to know you.

But … I think people have a hard time accepting others’ good fortune. ’

‘With us winning the house, you mean?’

Simon shrugs. ‘People can be vindictive like that.’

Something about the way he says it makes me glance at him, but his face gives nothing away. The tension coils a little tighter between us and I find myself wondering when Dev will be back.

I try for a lighter conversation. ‘Our turn to host you guys next. I’ll speak to Tilda, see when you’re free to come to us for dinner.’

‘Do you ever get the feeling,’ Simon says suddenly, his voice low, ‘that maybe you’re not quite where you’re supposed to be in life? Everything looks OK to other people from the outside, but inside here,’ he taps his chest, ‘it’s all off kilter, somehow.’

I freeze for a second, caught off guard.

It’s a very strange thing to say out of the blue, but I know exactly what he means.

It’s how I feel being in this amazing place.

An absolute dream to everyone else that doesn’t feel quite right to me because of what happened back then.

But nobody knows that so I have to keep pretending.

‘I know what you’re getting at,’ I say carefully. ‘I think everyone probably feels like that sometimes.’

‘Yeah,’ Simon murmurs. ‘Maybe. It’s just that occasionally you meet someone and question the choices you’ve made in life.’

For a short while, neither of us speaks but I’m cringing inside. The warm breeze has picked up slightly, sending a whisper through the leaves.

Eventually Simon stands up, setting his empty mug on the table. ‘Right, I’d better make a move. Thanks for the coffee.’

We walk back inside together, but he suddenly hesitates.

‘Merri, would you mind doing me a favour?’ he asks, his voice casual. ‘Could you not mention to Tilda that I called in this morning? I told her I had a few things to do, and she doesn’t really need to know I was here. With Dev being out and all that.’

Uncertainty ripples through my chest. It’s a small request, just a tiny deception that shouldn’t matter, but it feels loaded. Like he’s testing me.

‘Course, no problem.’ Then, even though I know I shouldn’t, I say, ‘Is Tilda the jealous kind, then?’

Simon gives me a wry smile. ‘You have no idea.’