Spitting Feathers. Kelly Harte

for just over a year.’

      It occurred to me that, although he was lucky to live somewhere as nice as this, he couldn’t earn very much. And neither would a garden this size take up the whole of his time, I wouldn’t have thought. ‘So, do you look after other gardens as well as this one?’ I asked him chattily.

      He nodded absently as he took a penknife out of the back pocket of his jeans and deftly dead-headed a pale pink rose that was past its best. I don’t think he was really listening to me.

      ‘And what do you do for entertainment round here?’ I pressed on regardless.

      He shrugged. ‘This and that, though I’m not really one for going out much. I work most evenings during summer.’ He moved ahead of me and began slicing the stems of some blowsy red flowers that I didn’t know the name of.

      ‘They don’t look dead,’ I said.

      He turned and looked at me as if I was stupid. ‘They’re not. I’m cutting them for the house.’ He went back to what he was doing. ‘Adrienne likes fresh flowers in the house. It’s part of my job.’

      It was beginning to feel like hard work, this getting acquainted with the gardener, and I wondered if this was his way of paying me back for being offhand with him earlier. Which would be a bit childish, but, since I obviously hadn’t made a very good first impression, I made a final effort to be friendly.

      ‘I could stick around for a while if you like. Till you finish up here. And then perhaps we could have a drink somewhere close by. Get to know each other better before I move in.’

      He was kneeling on the grass now, and I realised how he came to have muddy jeans. When I finished speaking he looked up at me again briefly, and seemed to consider my suggestion.

      ‘Can’t, I’m afraid. I’ve got someone coming to see me at the flat shortly.’ He glanced at his wristwatch and, after muttering something under his breath, got quickly to his feet. He gathered the flowers he’d cut and, without speaking again, headed away from me back to the house.

      With nothing else for it I followed him, feeling a bit of a fool. I found him in the kitchen, pouring water into a plastic bucket. I was about to say something else, some snidey remark about his attempts to be friendly being pretty short-lived, but I didn’t get the chance because Mrs A came in then, and made a big fuss of the flowers. They started talking about them, using the Latin name for the plant as they made favourable comparisons to last year’s crop, and I, who knew the English names of only about three garden flowers, felt distinctly out of it.

      I saw Chris look at his watch again, and after turning off the tap and placing the flowers in the bucket he excused himself. ‘Gotta go, Adrienne, though I’ll see you before you leave, of course.’ Then he seemed to remember me. ‘Nice to meet you, Tao,’ he said, without much conviction. ‘Just give me a knock if you need any guidance on our mutual friend, and try and let me know in plenty if time if you’re going to be away from the house.’

      He left then, and after a quick farewell to Sir Galahad, which involved him making the sound of a mournful trumpet that Mrs Audesley informed me was a burst of The Last Post, I left as well. Just in time to see a very striking, wealthy-looking woman in her early, possibly middle forties, hobbling down the steps in silly high heels towards the door of Chris’s basement flat.

      I wandered down to the nearby shops and discovered a pricey little gift shop that I found hard to resist for two reasons. One, I wanted to get something nice as a thank-you to Sophie for everything, and two, I was feeling agitated after my brief encounter with Mrs Audesley’s gardener, and spending always calmed my nerves.

      I mean, who did he think he was? Ordering me about like that, and worse—much worse—snubbing my invitation to go for a friendly drink. I tried comforting myself with the old ‘it’s his loss’ chestnut, but it didn’t ring all that true when I thought of the woman he’d turned me down for. Though what she saw in him was a mystery—unless she considered him her bit of rough, of course, I thought nastily. It is well known that some women get their kicks from dirtying their hands on the hunky hired help, and since he’d said he did gardening for other people, she might well have been one of his clients.

      An unpleasant thought suddenly crossed my mind as I was examining a nice little crystal candlestick that seemed to absorb the colour of everything around it—an image of Mrs Audesley and Chris cosying up on her pale blue sofa. I ejected it with a shudder and told myself to behave. Just because the woman was on first-name terms with her gardener, just because she seemed very at ease with him about the place, that did not mean there was anything else going on between them. The woman was in her seventies, for goodness’ sake, and okay, so she might have a good neck, but a fifty-year age gap was just too revolting to contemplate.

      The candlestick was one of a pair and as I tipped it over and saw the price ticket stuck to the base, it emptied my head of all other thoughts. I’d almost decided that they would be perfect for Sophie, but could I really afford sixty-five pounds? And besides, unless I left the price tag on she wouldn’t even appreciate the expense I’d gone to.

      I was the only browser in the shop at that moment. Apart from me there was a smartly dressed brunette who was heavily involved in a book behind the counter. So I took the pair of candlesticks over to her and, after sucking in some air, asked if she could manage any discount.

      From the look on her face it was clearly a question she hadn’t been asked before, but when her mouth finally closed she smiled at me warmly. She had strange pale grey eyes, and one of the smallest noses I’d ever seen. She reminded me of a fairytale wood creature, a nymph or a fairy, or something. Definitely on the supernatural side.

      ‘I’m afraid I don’t have the authority to do that,’ she said. ‘But I can show you some like them that don’t cost nearly so much.’ She got up and glided gracefully across the shop to a shelf in the corner that I’d overlooked. She was quite small, and very slender—the sort of person who makes me feel big and clumsy. She picked up a similar pair of candlesticks and held them up to the light. ‘You can hardly tell the difference,’ she said.

      I looked at them closely and saw that she was right.

      ‘Apart from the price,’ she said with a grin. ‘These are just under twenty pounds.’

      ‘Do you giftwrap?’ I asked.

      ‘Beautifully,’ she said.

      I rang Sophie when I got out of the shop half an hour later. During that time I’d become quite friendly with Alina, whom I discovered was just standing in for a couple of days while the shop’s owner was away at a gift trade event in North Wales. Alina herself was currently ‘between’ acting jobs—which was stretching the facts just a little, I’d thought, when I heard the details. Indeed, the last acting job she’d had was six months ago, when she’d played the part of a mugging victim in a Crimewatch reconstruction. But I liked her upbeat confidence, and her certainty that the right role was just around the corner. When she learned I was moving into the area, and where, she told me that was ‘completely amazing’, and promised to come round and see me. I’d left the shop feeling quite uplifted, encouraged to meet a female who wasn’t a bitch, and hopeful that I’d found a new friend.

      By now it was getting on for six, and I wasn’t even sure if I’d catch Sophie before she left work, but I did. She was just on her way out of the building, as a matter of fact, and I asked if she’d meet me at a pub not far from her flat in about half an hour. I wanted to talk, tell her all about Taylor and my awkward new neighbour, and I wanted to give her the present. And I wanted to do it all beyond the prying eyes and ears of the two Cs.

      But she sounded dubious, impatient almost. ‘I just wanted to get straight back to the flat and have a soak in the bath.’

      ‘Oh, go on,’ I wheedled, ‘just a quick one. It might be the last chance we get for ages.’

      ‘Okay,’ she said with a sigh. ‘But it really will have to be a quick one. I’m going out at eight.’

      I didn’t get a chance to ask where