Page 3 of A Kiss under the Stars
I’m not generally a scaredy-cat, but that first time Istepped inside Sycamore House to check it out last week, I seriously almostgave birth to several kittens.
It was a late afternoon in August, and all week the air hadbeen unusually hot and humid, and everyone was looking for the relief of rainin the forecast. A storm was brewing and the sky had darkened like the scenefrom a Hammer House of Horror movie as I drove through the jungle of weeds onthe drive and came to a stop. I gazed at the grubby front door that had oncebeen bright white and all these memories came rushing in, causing a breathless panickyfeeling to swell in my chest.
But I told myself there was no going back. The house had tobe sold so that I could finally leave the past behind and get on with my life.So I got out of the car, put the key in the lock and stepped over the thresholdinto the dank-smelling space beyond, with its shadowy staircase climbing intothe darkness above.
And that’s when a gigantic rumble of thunder behind me mademe almost leap out of my skin.
Thoroughly spooked, I flicked on the light and had a quicklook around, but I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. We’d left when I wasfourteen, Dylan a year older, and my memories of living at Sycamore House wereshrouded in misery and despair.
Ten minutes was more than enough for my first visit inten years!
Now, looking over at the skip I ordered, I can see that it’sstill empty. They were supposed to have started demolishing the wall the previousday, but clearly they haven’t even started yet. So I’ve paid Eddie in advancefor work that hasn’t been done.
And now he isn’t answering his phone.
I try him again – but once more, to my utter frustration, itgoes straight to answer machine.
What now?
It took me ages to find a builder willing to take on thework and I made the stupid mistake of mentioning that to Eddie. So now he clearlythinks he has me over a barrel and can turn up when he feels like it, and notwhen we agreed.
But I need to get the house back on the market again withinthe month if possible.
Landing a position as a junior pastry chef at a hotel in Bournemouth,where I’m currently living, was an absolute dream come true. Aside from helpingout in my friend Shalini’s café, this will be my first job since graduatingover a year ago. I couldn’t actually believe it when the head chef phoned totell me I’d been successful. I honestly thought it was someone playing a jokeon me at first. There had been hundreds of applicants for the job, after all,so why me?
But after I thanked her and scraped myself up off the floor,I realised that I needed to crack on with getting Sycamore House sold. This newjob represented a fresh start for me and that meant dealing with the house,which was a millstone around my neck. Dylan lived there for a while after he leftthe care home, and he’d always been determined the house should remain in thefamily. He seemed to think that one day, I’d be glad we didn’t sell it, althoughfrankly, I thought he was mad after everything that had happened. I neverwanted anything to do with that house.
But Dylan had abandoned me, along with everyone else who wassupposed to love me (including my waste of space ex), so it was now up to me todecide the fate of Sycamore House.
I was starting my new job in October and the house would be goneby then.
Off my hands for good.
Bish bash bosh!
CHAPTER THREE
The ring of my mobile cuts into my thoughts.
It’s Eddie. At last.
‘Lorraine?’
‘It’s Lottie.’
‘Lottie, right. Er... we’re doing a job inGuildford, Lottie, and unfortunately we’ve hit a snag that needs to be sortedas a priority.’
My heart sinks. ‘Right. So you won’t be here today asplanned?’
‘Afraid not.’
I chew on my thumbnail, processing the bad news. ‘So howlong will this other job take?’
‘Erm... a week, maybe two? Yes, it’s morelikely to be two.’
‘So hang on, you won’t be doing any more work on SycamoreHouse fortwo weeks?’ I say in dismay.
‘Nope. Really sorry about that.’
