Page 35 of Paper Roses

“I have to do this myself,” I say softly. “You’re not going to be around forever, are you? You’ll only have to be here for a few months.”

“But we’ll still be working with each other afterwards?” His voice is strangely anxious, and my heart skips a beat.

“Ofcourse,” I say with emphasis.

His shoulders ease under his jumper. No one has ever valued my company the way he does. Most of that’s due to how good I am at my job, but it’s still nice.

“We’ll just go back to normal once this situation is done,” I say, smoothing a plaster over the cut. I gently stroke the swollen knuckles. “These are going to hurt later.” He goes very still, and I look up at his face. “Are you okay?” His gaze drops to my lipsagain, and I lean close without thought. “Jed?” I say breathily, my eyes drifting closed.

There’s a bang on my window and my eyes fly open.

“Bloody hell,” I breathe, looking out, aware of Jed moving back in his seat. He’d probably like to put the distance of the channel between us.

The middle-aged man standing outside the car bends and waves through the window. “Hello,” he calls. “Are you waiting for me? Sorry I’m a bit late.”

“This must be the first builder I have an appointment with.” I put my hand on the door handle and Jed places a hand on my shoulder. I look back at him, startled.

He’s staring at the man, his brow furrowed. “I might need to tell you something.”

I hesitate. “He’s waiting and I’m being rude,” I whisper. “I don’t want to have him march off in a huff.”

Jed’s lips quirk. “Okay,” he says.

“Tell me in a bit,” I say quickly and climb out of the car.

“Mr Sampson?” I ask and hold out my hand. He’s a small red-haired man with a purple nose.

He takes my hand. “Yes. Nice to meet you,” he says. I let go and he staggers slightly and then corrects his balance.

“I’m sorry. Did you slip?” I ask in concern.

He goes into a fit of raucous laughter. “Did Islip?” he roars. He slaps me on the back, nearly sending me into the hedge.

It’s rare that I reduce someone to tears of laughter. He walks towards the house, staggering a little as he looks up.

“Well now, this is a nice bungalow,” he confides.

I blink. “Hmm. Well, it’s not exactly a bungalow,” I say apologetically.

He squints at the house. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes, pretty positive.” I hesitate. “The extra two floors give the game away.”

That sends him into another burst of laughter, and I give him a bemused look. Recognition hits as another gust of laughter reaches me, and the alcohol fumes make me cough.

“Oh, my goodness,” I say, coughing again.

“Hope that’s not the bug going round,” he says cheerfully, slapping me on the back again. I cover my mouth in fear that he’ll bring up one of my lungs.

“Oh really? Is it a bad one?”

“Not really.” He pauses, staring into space. “But maybe a few people have died from it.” He rummages in his pocket and produces a small notebook. He licks the pencil that he produces from behind his ear and looks up at me. “Well, I hope you’re satisfied with the standard of my work, Mr Anstons?” He falters slightly over the S’s but then rallies. “The remaining sum is now due.”

“Erm.”

I hear footsteps and relax as Jed comes up next to me. His eyes are twinkling. “How’s the quote going?”

“We’re proceeding at lightning speed because he just gave me the final bill. Oh, and he thinks I’m called Mr Anstons.”

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