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Chapter Four

G randma didn’t cope well with the window replacements and since it was soon to be December, neither did I. Monica and I decided it might be better for Grandma to go into respite for a few days. I’d never given her up and the guilt wracked my body when I took her to a local home. She was confused and upset, tearful, and angry with me. She soon settled with a cup of tea and a biscuit handed to her by a chap she’d named Louis and who she thought was her son. I’d never known her to have children, other than my father, and Louis wasn’t a particularly Spanish name.

Grandma had reverted to speaking mostly in Spanish as she got older. More so when her dementia took hold. It was as if she’d forgotten to speak English. She’d been in England for years and years, but never lost her accent. I was grateful that Louis had a basic command of the language and he soon had Grandma settled.

I, however, bawled all the way home.

Monica led me back into the house and all works stopped while the window fitters looked to see if I was okay. No one snickered or looked embarrassed. In fact, the work supervisor, Derek, came and wrapped an arm around me.

“Horrible, love, aint it?” he said, his gruff London accent comforting me. I nodded and snotted into his t-shirt. “You did the right thing, and when she comes home and it’s all nice and snug, she’ll love it.”

I doubted she would even know the windows had been changed, but I appreciated his comfort. I untangled myself from his arms and headed into the kitchen. I made two pots of tea and handed out mugs to the window fitters before settling down and cupping a mug in my own hands.

“I heard you were crying.”

I spat my tea across the table and stood. “What?”

“I heard you were crying. I wanted to see if you were okay,” Mr. Wolfe said.

He’d approached so silently I hadn’t heard him.

“Why are you sneaking up on me?”

“The front door was open, and I wasn’t sneaking, but next time I’ll be sure to stomp. I wanted to see if you were okay. As I said, I heard you had been crying.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You have big ears if you heard me crying from your office,” I said, challenging him.

“I have exceptional hearing and I was outside letting you have some time to settle before I made an appearance, seeing as I rile you so much.”

“Do you check up on all your tenants?”

“No, I have a management team for that.”

“Why me, then?” I asked.

“Because I want to, Ruby.” He gazed intently at me, and I could feel those butterflies in my stomach flap their wings erratically.

“Tea?” I asked, holding my mug aloft. I didn’t want to offer him tea, I wanted him to leave, but it was the first word that left my lips.

“Coffee would be nice. There is a nice café locally if you’d like to escape the noise.”

I placed my mug down and grabbed my red hoodie to pull on. I was aware my t-shirt rose slightly as I struggled into it. I just hoped he wasn’t.

“Lead the way,” I said, and then promptly walked past him. I heard the deep chuckle that had filtered through in my dreams. I smiled, thankful I had my back to him.

As I left the house and turned out of the gate, he grabbed my arm and pulled me to the kerb and to the side of his car. A large black car with darkened windows. I had no idea of the make, but it was super shiny and way out of place on my London street. I imagined curtain twitchers were desperate to know the occupant of the car.

“People will talk,” I said, as he opened the rear door and ushered me in.

“Let them.”

He slid in beside me and I shuffled to the furthest corner. The car was so plush and large that my feet didn’t reach the carpet. I sat, giggling, and swinging my legs. That was until I saw him smile at me, then swipe his red tongue over those perfect teeth.

All the better to eat you with, shot straight to my mind. I coloured; my cheeks burned at the memory. He frowned. “Did you say something?”

“Nothing. Now, why don’t we fuck the environment up further by driving this gas guzzler the short distance I assume it will take to reach the café?”

“It’s electric,” he replied, then sat back in his seat and laughed. He made eye contact with the driver, and the driver simply nodded. I wondered how he knew where to take us since no instruction had been given.

The car made no noise. I hadn’t noticed when he’d drowned me with the puddle. But the silence was unnerving .

“Don’t know that I like this. Can people on bikes or horses hear you coming?” I asked the driver.

“Yes, ma’am. The car emits a sound to alert our presence.”

Oh, very formally answered. I nodded in approval.

“What’s with the black windows?” I asked.

“So no one can see in,” Mr. Wolfe replied.

“You like anonymity in your car, but happily strut into a stranger’s house?” I teased, smirking at him.

“I don’t think I’ve strutted since my teens.”

“Stalk then, you stalk or... what’s the word... skulk?”

“Skulk? Interesting choice of words, Ruby.” He didn’t expand on why he thought it was interesting. “How’s college?”

“When I can get there, great. I have to do my uni applications soon, and worried about that–” I shut up, not wanting to divulge any personal information to him.

“Why are you worried?” He tilted his head and furrowed his brow in confusion. “Your drawings are amazing, so I assume your grades will be as well.”

Too late, I guessed. I would now have to answer. I shrugged my shoulders. “Lack of confidence, I guess.”

His eyes widened and his grin spread. “You... lack of confidence?”

I turned in my seat to face him. If I could have put my hands on my hips, I would have. “Yeah, and?” I asked, sassily .

He laughed. “A lack of confidence isn’t something I get from you.”

“I have a lot riding on this. It’s all right for people like you, Mr. Wolfe. People like me don’t get places without a lot of hard work and knockbacks. That’s eroding.”

Before he could answer, we pulled over. He opened the door and slid out, holding the door open for me to join him.

“My name is Sebastian. My employees call me Mr. Wolfe, as they should. I was an orphan, placed in a children’s home, abused and beaten, until I escaped with only one idea. That was to never be beholden to anyone. So, as for people like me , don’t be so quick to judge the cover. Shall we?”

He held out his arm, pointing towards a café. He slammed the car door shut and took the couple of steps up to the shop. He opened the door and stood to the side, allowing me to haul my rather embarrassed arse through and into the warmth of a lovely café.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

“Accepted. Would you like to take a seat there?”

Without waiting for an answer, he strode over to a table by the window. He waved to a man behind the counter. I assumed they knew each other. I also noticed two female servers elbow each other in their haste to get to us... him .

Without asking me, he placed an order for two coffees, one black and one latte. I hoped I was getting the latte; he certainly seemed the black coffee type of man.

“I’m sorry I made an assumption earlier,” I repeated, pulling my big girl pants up.

“No need to apologise twice,” he replied.

“Sometimes my mouth runs away from me,” I said, laughing but still embarrassed. More so when he stared at my mouth and licked his lips again.

“I like that it does. You have spirit, Ruby. You’re challenging and bolshy, and I have no doubt you’ll go far. I’d like to help with that.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t do sex in return for a favour,” I blurted out rather loudly, and exactly as two coffees were placed on the table.

I covered my mouth with my hand. It was a joke, but poorly executed and badly timed. I think even my eyelids turned red.

Mr. Wolfe looked at the hovering server with such a glare, she practically shrivelled.

“Jesus, Ruby! You need something large in that run-away mouth to shut it up sometimes.”

I coloured further, the fluttering in my stomach turned into a Tsunami, and my hands shook. “And I’m not offering a favour... Although I do require something in return.” He raised his eyebrows in challenge .

“Oh God, I’m so sorry. It was meant to be funny... except it wasn’t.” I blurted out, not fully processing his last sentence.

“No, it wasn’t. Comedic timing isn’t your strong point, is it? Now, shall we back up a couple of minutes?”

“Yes, please. Oh, God, I can’t believe I said that.”

I picked up my coffee and wanted to laugh purely from embarrassment.

He closed his eyes and shook his head as my shoulders lifted and tears filled my eyes. I was desperately trying to hold back the laughter.

“Laugh. Get it out of your system so we can get back down to business.”

Having got permission, I placed my mug back on the table, lowered my head to my arms I’d folded beside the mug and laughed, biting my hoodie so as not to make too much noise. When I was done, I wiped my eyes dry with my sleeve and sat back upright. I picked up my mug.

“Now, where were we?” I asked.

“You were probably insulting me, yet again, while I was about to make you an offer I think you’d like.”

“Ah, yes. Okay, go on.”

“I have an opening for an assistant to my architect....” He held up his hand as I opened my mouth to speak and before I could get the words out, he’d stuffed a napkin in.

I spat the napkin onto the table and glared at him.

“This isn’t a secretarial role, before you complain. It’s a genuine assistant’s role. I have spoken to my team, and they agreed a trainee would be the best solution. You work three days and attend uni for two.”

“I wasn’t going to complain,” I said, lying.

“Really? Then you need a far better poker face.”

He picked up his coffee and took a sip. His eyes bore into mine without blinking, and I swear they darkened. I wanted to shiver, or at least place my hands on my thighs to stop them twitching.

“Okay, I’m interested,” I replied. And I was. Who wouldn’t be? Working while studying would be an ideal situation, although I knew I’d be studying for way longer.

“Good. I’ll collect you tomorrow and you can come into the office to meet your boss .”

I smiled, and it was a genuine smile, and probably the only genuine smile I’d offered to anyone for a long time.

“I don’t have anything to wear for an interview,” I blurted out.

“Come as you are. I prefer my staff to be comfortable and I rather like you in that red, dirty hoodie.”

He picked up his cup and sipped, all the while staring at me over the rim .

“It’s not...” I picked at a splodge of mud from my sleeve. “I wonder if I can get to the launderette in time.”

“You don’t have a machine?” he asked.

“No, haven’t been able—”

“I’ll have one sent this afternoon,” he said, picking up his mobile. He typed a message as I protested.

“Mr. Wolfe... Sebastian, please stop. Why are you doing this?” I asked.

He placed his mobile back on the table. For a moment, he didn’t speak. “Something tells me to,” he said, quietly.

“Something...?” I wasn’t sure what else to say.

“I want to. Have you finished?”

I hadn’t, but I picked up my mug and drowned the rest of my hot coffee. “Yes.”

“I’ll take you home.”

I could have walked, but I wanted to spend a little more time with him. I wanted to know what the something was. I wasn’t responsible for his conscience, and I didn’t want the only reason he helped me to be because he felt he had to. I didn’t want help, yet I knew I needed it.

We drove back in silence, him looking out one side of the car and me the other. It was with a pang of disappointment that I left his car and watched it drive away. I sighed. He was a problem I didn’t need.

As promised, a couple of hours later, a van arrived with not just a washing machine, but also a tumble dryer. I had no idea how he’d arranged for their delivery so quickly, and just assumed he held stock. Maybe his posher properties came fully furnished. The van driver told me he was to install the appliances as well, and I was grateful that the old outside toilet had electricity and plumbing. It made for a perfect utility room.

When he had gone and the window fitters had finished, I stood in the empty house. It was a mess but warm, and, more importantly, so very quiet. No road noise, not that it was a busy road. No kids from next door screaming in the garden. No dogs barking from the often reported puppy farm behind me. I sat on the floor and closed my eyes and just... be.

It took an hour to straighten the house and clean it. By then, I had the cleaning bug and rushed to the local store. I bought washing powder and softener, desperate to have fresh smelling bed linens. As much as I was fastidious about clean bed linen, especially for Grandma who spent so much time in bed, the laundrette didn’t provide nice smelling products. I stripped both beds and got such silly enjoyment out of using the new machine, I actually clapped when it started.

I opened my phone and sent an email .

Thank you. I’m washing sheets! And other stuff, and I’ll wash some clothes so I look smart.

I pressed send before I read it back and only after realised how juvenile it sounded.

“Jesus, Ruby,” I muttered and then cursed that there wasn’t a way to retract and delete emails before they were seen.

I could pretend that, because of the shattered screen, I couldn’t actually see what I was typing, I guessed. Although, I doubted he’d fall for that.

Clean sheets are a favourite of mine ;)

He winked in his reply! I wasn’t sure Mr. Wolfe had the capability of a wink; his humour was so dry. I laughed, not entirely sure what he meant.

After remaking the beds and making sure that Grandma’s bedroom was perfect for her return, I stood in front of my wardrobe. I had clothes, I even had a dress I’d forgotten about. I tended to wear jeans and t-shirts, because they were easy, and jeans didn’t need to be washed after every wear. I had shoes. Well, I had one, and I was sure I could find the other. I pulled everything out and laid it on my bed. Some items made me smile, while some made me cry. I hated that memories were attached to some, but there they were, no matter how silly. The dress that no longer fitted me, I remembered wearing, as my mother and I ran across the beach when we first moved to Spain as we splashed into the sea fully clothed. I picked it up and held it to my nose, wishing it still smelled of her or the sea. It didn’t, of course.

My mother was English. She’d fallen in love with my father the minute she saw him, so she’d tell me. She had no parents, no one that she talked about, and I never questioned that. She laughed a lot. She smiled a lot more. Until the drugs and the drink ravished her, destroyed her soul, leaving nothing but a shell of a woman desperate for her release.

I knew exactly how she died but never said. Others said it was an accidental overdose, that she would never leave me intentionally. I didn’t blame her, though. She did the right thing for her. She hated her life, and she knew she’d ruin mine if she continued. Her only way of ensuring I’d be safe was to take herself completely out of the picture. To me, that was a brave thing to do. I loved her, then and now, and I would continue to thank her for what she did. Although my life was tough, I knew that wouldn’t last forever. I could have an amazing life because of her. I was tenacious enough to go for it.

I shuddered to rid myself of the thoughts. I didn’t want happy or sad. I wanted angry because that’s what drove me so hard. Anger at my father, anger at the illness that was slowly taking my grandmother, and anger at... I wasn’t sure what else, but I knew I’d be angry at it, whatever it was. I chuckled. My brain was fucked up sometimes.

By the end of the day, I had a sparkling house, clean clothes laid out for my interview the following day, but it was too quiet. I walked into the living room and turned on the television. I was just in time for one of Grandma’s favourite quiz shows. I found myself answering questions and turning to an empty chair to chat to Grandma. I missed her desperately, but there was a tiny part, deep inside, that I wanted to suffocate, that liked the peace, the solitude, and the knowledge that I might get a full night’s sleep.