Read Online The House at the Bottom of the Hill by Jennie Jones - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jennie Jones
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will remember how hard it was for him and Grace the last time he … disappeared … seeing as you found him.’
Poor old Ted and his obsessions. He had too many problems on his plate. ‘I’ll keep an eye on him. Well.’ Dan uncrossed his arms and looked over Mrs J’s shoulder. ‘I’ll give them a hand with the trestle table and then it looks like we’re done for the night.’ He glanced down. ‘Nice of you to keep me informed of things, Mrs J.’
‘Don’t mention it. You’ve proved yourself a worthy and valuable addition to the town.’
Yeah. Dan nodded and shifted his stance. The old girl hadn’t spoken to him for the first six months—thought he’d be bringing showgirls to the bar or something equally outrageous. What the townspeople forgot—or didn’t care to consider—was that Dan was country born and bred, like they were. Different town though. Might as well have been a different planet, now he thought about his first few years in Swallow’s Fall.
‘And we look after our own,’ Mrs J continued.
Her words brought a sudden but pleasant warmth to his chest. ‘Thank you, Mrs J.’ One of their own, huh? Not bad for six years of effort … and patience.
Mrs J looked around Dan’s shoulder, out the open door and down the street. ‘Do you fancy her?’
Jesus. Why was everyone so interested in what he thought of Charlotte? He glanced out of the door as Sammy drove away, Red giving a wave and walking slowly, a little ponderously maybe, towards her B&B. Couldn’t a man hold a conversation with an attractive woman without it going to council?
He turned to Mrs Johnson and opened his mouth. Did he fancy her?
‘No,’ he said.
Mrs J stared at him. Damn it. He’d paused too long and the old girl’s internal gossip receiver sparked the air as it charged.
Five
C harlotte squinted as the morning sunlight caressed her face. She leaned against the doorframe of her B&B, new screwdriver in one hand, the telephone in the other.
Early Monday morning in Swallow’s Fall and the town getting ready for its day.
It would be late Sunday night in Starfoot; maybe a few young people showing off with rowdiness as they made their way home from the local pub, giving the Yorkshire residents something to complain about the next morning as they queued for bread at the bakery and discussed the building of the new two-storey hotel on seventeen acres of good old English soil, a quarter of an acre of which had once been Charlotte’s.
‘So,’ Sammy said down the phone. ‘Dinner. Saturday night, six o’clock. I’ve got a roast planned and I’m going the whole hog since Ethan wouldn’t let me go to the barbecue last Friday due to my swollen ankles.’
A twinge that felt suspiciously like misery because she hadn’t been invited to Kookaburra’s first Friday night barbecue gripped Charlotte’s chest. Then again, nobody had needed invites, the notice had been plastered on the pub’s front window. Family barbecue, family fare, Friday night fun . She could have gone. Except who would she have spoken to or sat next to?
‘Did you hear me?’ Sammy said. ‘Saturday, dinner, our place, and I’ve told Ethan to make sure no animals get sick after five p.m. otherwise they’ll be answering to me.’
Charlotte smiled. ‘Does he always do what you say?’
‘I wear the pants around Burra Burra Lane. He knows it and the animals know it.’
‘I hope you don’t mind my asking again, Sammy—but is it just me and Daniel, or will you have other guests?’
‘Just you two.’
Charlotte lifted her eyes to the street as the man in question took the steps from the walkway outside Kookaburra’s two at a time and walked across the road towards the stock feeders’. Lucy trotted at his side. Traitorous four-legged friend.
Charlotte stepped back and behind the door.
‘You still there?’ Sammy asked. ‘You keep going quiet.’
Charlotte nodded.
‘Look, Charlotte,’ Sammy said, admonishment in her tone, ‘I know
Poor old Ted and his obsessions. He had too many problems on his plate. ‘I’ll keep an eye on him. Well.’ Dan uncrossed his arms and looked over Mrs J’s shoulder. ‘I’ll give them a hand with the trestle table and then it looks like we’re done for the night.’ He glanced down. ‘Nice of you to keep me informed of things, Mrs J.’
‘Don’t mention it. You’ve proved yourself a worthy and valuable addition to the town.’
Yeah. Dan nodded and shifted his stance. The old girl hadn’t spoken to him for the first six months—thought he’d be bringing showgirls to the bar or something equally outrageous. What the townspeople forgot—or didn’t care to consider—was that Dan was country born and bred, like they were. Different town though. Might as well have been a different planet, now he thought about his first few years in Swallow’s Fall.
‘And we look after our own,’ Mrs J continued.
Her words brought a sudden but pleasant warmth to his chest. ‘Thank you, Mrs J.’ One of their own, huh? Not bad for six years of effort … and patience.
Mrs J looked around Dan’s shoulder, out the open door and down the street. ‘Do you fancy her?’
Jesus. Why was everyone so interested in what he thought of Charlotte? He glanced out of the door as Sammy drove away, Red giving a wave and walking slowly, a little ponderously maybe, towards her B&B. Couldn’t a man hold a conversation with an attractive woman without it going to council?
He turned to Mrs Johnson and opened his mouth. Did he fancy her?
‘No,’ he said.
Mrs J stared at him. Damn it. He’d paused too long and the old girl’s internal gossip receiver sparked the air as it charged.
Five
C harlotte squinted as the morning sunlight caressed her face. She leaned against the doorframe of her B&B, new screwdriver in one hand, the telephone in the other.
Early Monday morning in Swallow’s Fall and the town getting ready for its day.
It would be late Sunday night in Starfoot; maybe a few young people showing off with rowdiness as they made their way home from the local pub, giving the Yorkshire residents something to complain about the next morning as they queued for bread at the bakery and discussed the building of the new two-storey hotel on seventeen acres of good old English soil, a quarter of an acre of which had once been Charlotte’s.
‘So,’ Sammy said down the phone. ‘Dinner. Saturday night, six o’clock. I’ve got a roast planned and I’m going the whole hog since Ethan wouldn’t let me go to the barbecue last Friday due to my swollen ankles.’
A twinge that felt suspiciously like misery because she hadn’t been invited to Kookaburra’s first Friday night barbecue gripped Charlotte’s chest. Then again, nobody had needed invites, the notice had been plastered on the pub’s front window. Family barbecue, family fare, Friday night fun . She could have gone. Except who would she have spoken to or sat next to?
‘Did you hear me?’ Sammy said. ‘Saturday, dinner, our place, and I’ve told Ethan to make sure no animals get sick after five p.m. otherwise they’ll be answering to me.’
Charlotte smiled. ‘Does he always do what you say?’
‘I wear the pants around Burra Burra Lane. He knows it and the animals know it.’
‘I hope you don’t mind my asking again, Sammy—but is it just me and Daniel, or will you have other guests?’
‘Just you two.’
Charlotte lifted her eyes to the street as the man in question took the steps from the walkway outside Kookaburra’s two at a time and walked across the road towards the stock feeders’. Lucy trotted at his side. Traitorous four-legged friend.
Charlotte stepped back and behind the door.
‘You still there?’ Sammy asked. ‘You keep going quiet.’
Charlotte nodded.
‘Look, Charlotte,’ Sammy said, admonishment in her tone, ‘I know
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