Page 40 of Fireworks at Pennycress Inn
‘Have the police been round yet?’
Polly shook her head as she watched Zac lock the door behind him before slipping his shoes off to reveal bright purple socks with tiny hedgehogs scattered across them. She stifled a smile. She’d always assumed he was a grey sock guy, smart and businesslike. ‘No, I don’t think they’ll be in any rush. Nothing was stolen.’
Zac followed her through to the living room and paused, looking around at the bare shelves and the suitcase sitting on the floor. ‘You’ve been busy.’
Realising she was still gripping hold of the brolly, she leaned it up against the end of the sofa and looked at the chair she’d been using to jam the door shut. She couldn’t really put it back in place now, could she? Not with Zac here. He’d think she was trying to imprison him or something. ‘I’ve got a viewing on Monday and the estate agent advised me to declutter and redecorate.’
‘A viewing? You’re selling?’ The muscle in Zac’s jaw twitched. ‘Where are you moving to?’
Polly shrugged. It wasn’t rocket science. ‘Hopefully to Meadowfield.’
‘Oh, right.’ Turning, Zac looked out of the living-room window.
Joining him, Polly frowned. Why had he reacted like that? Did he really think she was going to stay here and commute to Meadowfield every day once their three months were up at Pennycress? Or was he just so set on securing the promotion and then sacking her that it hadn’t occurred to him that she might already be taking steps to move?
‘I imagine this is a great view in the daylight.’ Zac shoved his hands in his pockets.
And now a complete change in conversation?
She forced herself to focus on what he was saying. The view. ‘Yes, it is. I used to spend hours sitting in that little chair as a kid, reading and looking out of the window.’ She smiled at memories of watching the world go by whilst the flat filled with delicious smells wafting out from the kitchen before her grandad came home from work, usually with a comic rolled under his arm for her or a chocolate cake someone at the factory had made. Even if she did stay, take the flat off the market, give up on her dream of working in conservation so she could stay living in her childhood home, she knew it wouldn’t be the same. She no longer had the unconditional love and support of her grandparents and after finding the flat had been broken into, she realised the burglars had stolen something after all. They’d stolen her misguided sense of safety.
‘You grew up here?’ Zac tilted his head. ‘I didn’t realise that. I knew you’d moved in when your grandma got sick, but I didn’t realise you grew up with them.’
Why would he? Yes, before the whole leaving party incident, they’d been friends, they’d got on well, but they’d never really delved into their pasts. He’d always refrained from speaking about his upbringing, presumably because he didn’t want to highlight to everyone the fact he’d had everything handed to him on a silver plate. ‘Well, I did. Since the age of nine.’
‘Right.’ Looking at her, he held her gaze for the briefest of seconds before turning back towards the view.
Following his lead, she fixed her eyes on the yellow street lamps illuminating the town centre, the blinking of the traffic lights as they turned from red to amber to green, and the ebb and flow of the headlights from the few cars which were meandering along the road. Most of them were probably taxis taking people home after an enjoyable Friday night out, just like Stacey and her colleagues, celebrating the end of the working week. Huh, it was all right for some. Maybe one day she’d get to that point – where she didn’t have a ton of work to complete over the weekend or a flat to declutter and decorate. One day.
Polly glanced across at Zac. He was almost entranced by the light show going on below them. ‘So, what were you really doing, coming up here?’
Blinking, he ran his palm across his face, his eyes still fixed to the window. ‘As I said, I happened to drive past and noticed your lights were on.’
Pulling her sleeve over her hand, she scrubbed at a smear on the window. He’d just driven past, what, with his head hanging out of the car window and straining his neck to look up? She wasn’t buying it. The only way he’d have noticed if her lights were on – or indeed, that any lights were on four floors up – was if he’d been looking intentionally. ‘Did you have a nice evening?’
That gained his attention. Turning to face her, he frowned. ‘A nice evening?’
She shrugged. ‘I mean, I’m assuming you’ve been out to the pub or somewhere to be driving through town at this time?’
‘I was visiting…’ He shook his head. ‘Look, have you got any coffee? Or tea? I’m parched and could really do with something.’
‘Sure, I’ll grab you one. No milk though, so it’ll have to be black.’
She walked through to the kitchen, glancing behind her as she got to the door. He was standing back at the window, transfixed, by the looks of things. So, he’d been visiting someone. Someone he didn’t particularly want to talk to her about. A girlfriend maybe? She clicked the kettle on before turning and leaning her back against the work surface. She could still see him from here, through the open doorway. Yes, a girlfriend. That would make sense. That would be why he didn’t want to enlighten her, but why keep it quiet? The kiss. That was why. She slapped her forehead. Of course, it all made sense now. He had a girlfriend. A partner. Someone he had been seeing since before they’d shared that moment, or whatever it had been. No wonder he didn’t want to dwell on it, no wonder he never brought it up and that he’d clammed right up when she’d tried to discuss it with him during the car journey.
And it was why he’d been acting so weird towards her, too. He was scared she’d put two and two together and search the girlfriend out, tell her what had happened. Looking down at the floor, Polly sighed as she spotted a pizza crumb she’d missed with the vacuum. Bending down, she picked it up and put it in the bin. Did he really think she’d do that? Try to break up his relationship because of a stupid kiss?
‘The kettle’s boiled.’ Striding into the kitchen, Zac reached behind her and took down two mugs from the wooden mug tree sitting at the back of the work surface.
‘Right. Thanks.’ Stepping back, she watched as he made the coffee, his black, hers with one sugar. Taking it, she wrapped her hands around the searing ceramic. ‘Thanks.’
‘No problem.’ Walking to the other side of the small room, he leaned against the wall. ‘So, are you going to answer my question and tell me why you didn’t go to stay with your friend in the end?’
Umm, like he’d answered her questions. She shrugged. She had nothing to hide. ‘She’s on a night out and I didn’t want to tear her away.’
‘How come you didn’t just say that then instead of pretending you were going?’ Zac took a sip of his drink, wincing slightly at the heat.
‘Because you clearly had somewhere to go.’
