He leant down and clinked his glass against hers before taking a seat opposite her. He noticed that the grey jumper perfectly matched the colour of her eyes. She was looking a good deal happier than the last time he had seen her. He thought he should tell her so.
‘I’m really pleased to see you looking so chirpy. Does this mean your career change is beginning to look like a good idea?’
‘Do you know, Danny, I think it is.’ She gave him a broad smile. ‘Give or take a house full of poo.’
‘So, tell me all about it. It isn’t really full of poo, is it?’
She filled him in on the true state of the house, including the rat. She then went on to tell him about Mrs Tinker and the providential arrival of her nephew, Peter. ‘The house I’m renting is in a lovely little village not far from the sea. The surveyor is wonderful. He’s already fixed up with the cleaners for them to come down next week. If all goes well, he may be able to get in to do his survey as soon as Monday week.’
They chatted easily until past eight, at which time he suggested they head for the restaurant.
Their table was right beside the window, looking out across the Thames towards St Paul’s cathedral. The meal was excellent and they continued to talk. Although they had known each other at work for almost five years, there was an awful lot to find out for both of them. Alice was the first to get personal.
‘So, how is it that a handsome young man like you is still single?’
He smiled. ‘I’m not totally sure what the correct way of describing my present state is. I am almost single.’ Seeing the look on her face, he explained. ‘I’m forty-two.’ She looked up in genuine surprise. ‘I got married when I was still quite young. It lasted for just over eighteen years. We split up almost two years ago and the divorce is going through. Some time soon I should get the news that I am once again single.’ In spite of the smile, she could hear the regret in his voice.
She was still digesting the fact that he was three years older than she was. With his mop of blond hair and boyish good looks, she had always thought of him as a youngster. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. I hope it isn’t one of those grim divorces.’
‘I don’t think there’s any other kind.’ He was looking more serious than she had ever seen him. ‘How Joan Collins managed to survive ten divorces, I’ll never know.’
‘I think you might just be exaggerating a tad there.’ She smiled at him.
He decided it was now his turn to put her on the spot. ‘So, if I may ask, how is it that an attractive woman such as yourself is still unattached, if you are? No husband hidden away somewhere?’
She looked down at her glass, gently shaking her head. ‘I’ll tell you something, Danny. Buying the house full of poo was not the only stupid mistake I’ve made in this life. The other, much bigger one, was devoting myself body and soul to G&B for so many years. To the exclusion of all else.’ She looked up. ‘You know something? When Nigel told me I had lost my job, I was devastated. But now, the more I think about it, the better it feels.’
‘And this place in Devon? Is that where your new life will be?’
She gave it some thought. ‘I was thinking about that on the train on the way home today. I actually felt almost sorry to leave Devon this morning. So maybe that’s one decision I’ve got right. It’s so very different from the city.’ She looked up with a smile on her face as she remembered. ‘Whether I stay in Beauchamp or go for one of the surrounding villages, I have yet to decide. But I’ve already found a couple of Dannys down there to keep me company.’
He looked puzzled.
‘I was going to tell you in my e-mail, but I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. One of them I held in my arms, and the other one I scratched behind his ears.’
He gave her a smile as she explained what she meant. Underneath the smile, he found himself repeating her words…wrong idea?
She smiled back. Underneath the smile, she realised she had deliberately omitted to mention the other Danny, or rather, Daniel the Vicar. Why, she wondered, had she done that?
The phone call from Peter the Surveyor came late the following Friday.
‘I am happy to report that the house has now been cleared. You will be interested to know that it took a team of three men three full days to clean it out. I’m afraid that the bill for disposal of what they refer to as “medical waste” has pushed the total up by almost a thousand pounds, but they’ve done it. I will go in on Monday to take an initial look. If you have plans to come down to Beauchamp, maybe you might like to meet me on site at some point.’
‘Fantastic.’ The extra thousand seemed a small price to pay for getting rid of everything. ‘I’m coming down to Devon tomorrow. I’ve arranged to stay with your aunt again, so you can contact me there if you can’t get me on the mobile.’ She had already made the discovery that the steep Devon hills and valleys were not conducive to mobile phone reception. ‘Did they make any comment on what they saw?’
There was a brief pause. ‘It seems there may be an infestation of dry rot.’
‘Dry rot?’ She knew that wasn’t good news. ‘Isn’t that the sort of thing that makes houses fall down?’
‘Only in the most extreme cases. Normally it can be remedied. I’ll take a look on Monday and should be better placed to make a judgement then. It may not even be dry rot. There are lots of fungal growths that look similar. By the way, just to warn you, the garden still looks like a rubbish dump. As it doesn’t look as if there’s anything toxic out there, we can get a local firm to clear it. It’ll work out a lot cheaper for you. I’ll give you a call on Monday afternoon.’
She thanked him and headed for the bathroom. She had arranged to meet a bunch of former colleagues from G&B for a drink when they finished work at six. She found herself humming in the shower. Things were on the up.
Next day she took a morning train from Paddington. Being a Saturday, it was a bit quieter than usual. She bought a car magazine at the station in order to have some idea of what sort of vehicle to get when she moved down to the West Country. This was not a subject with which she was familiar. In fact, she thought to herself as the train picked up speed, she couldn’t even remember what make her rental car the previous week had been. As she flicked through page after page of incomprehensible gobbledegook, she soon realised that this was a decision she was not qualified to make. She needed advice.
The only person she could think of with a car was Danny. She knew he had one because he had told her he took his windsurfing board everywhere on the roof. He kept it in the car park under the G&B building. She pulled out her phone and scrolled down to Danny Kemp. It was half past nine. Hopefully he would not still be in bed.
The phone rang five or six times before it was answered. It was a woman’s voice. Momentarily discomfited, Alice hesitated. The voice at the other end tried again.
‘Hello, is anybody there?’ It did not sound like an old woman. Very much the opposite, in fact.
‘Mm, hello. Could I speak to Danny?’
‘I’m afraid he’s in the shower. Can he call you back?’
‘Um, yes, please.’
‘Who shall I say is calling?’
‘It’s Alice.’
‘Okay. He won’t be long.’
Alice placed the phone back on the table. So had