Chapter Five

A chance meeting with Aunt Jen's new neighbour sets Emily's heart racing.

CHAPTER FIVE

It was just starting to get dark by the time we reached Yewell Town Square. Instead of turning right into our street I asked Dolly to carry on down the hill and drop me at Jen's bungalow. Yes, it would mean a long slog for me back to the top of Perry Hill, but it was a fine night, felt like stretching my legs. I was hoping some fresh air might have some affect on my head too, clear my thoughts a little. No use worrying about Jen; she needed my support. When Lewis was ill she stayed positive, stayed busy, I would do the same.

As I opened the door and stepped into the L-shaped hallway the bungalow was eerily still and quiet. There was just enough light filtering through the door for me to see by as I moved past the spindly table where the phone sat. I flicked on the light and a warm glow illuminated a row of Russian dolls; a genuine souvenir from a long ago trip. They were part of the house, sewn into the patchwork of my memories.

Lewis and Jen had lived there since their marriage more than fifty years earlier. They had named the house 'Pemberley', from Jen's favourite Jane Austen novel, Pride and Prejudice. I had spent a lot of my childhood there, maybe more often than at Gran's house. In Summer there were tea-parties on the patio, and games of cricket on the lawn with Uncle Lewis. We always went there for a Boxing Day feast with games and puzzles till late in the evening. Dolly often came too.

Uncle Lewis taught us sign language, which he and Gran had learned at their mother's knee. Great-Gran had been born deaf. It's a marvellous thing to put on your CV that you know sign language; got me my job at the library. Whenever anyone comes to the library who is hard of hearing, they get steered in my direction, or Dolly's. We often sign when we don't want to be overheard.

Aunt Jen's list was clear and concise; feed Darcy and Elizabeth, the goldfish. Jane Austen again, of course. She had read an article about how having a pet to care for was therapeutic, good for a person's well being. Uncle Lewis had put his foot down. He was dead against the idea. So last year, after being widowed, goldfish were the perfect birthday present for Jen. They had grown since then and would soon need a bigger tank. I gave them some food and moved on to the next item on the list.

There wasn't' much to find, spare nightclothes, her address book and most importantly, the photo of Lewis she always kept by the bed. The last task was to take out the rubbish. Tomorrow was bin-bag day. As I carried the bags down the driveway a sleek, black Triumph motorcycle roared along the road and pulled up opposite the bungalow. I knew there was a new neighbour across the road, but we had yet to meet.

The cyclist propped the machine on it's kick stand and removed his helmet. He was about my age and very good looking. He gave me a wave and I smiled shyly back as he peeled off black leather gloves and crossed over.

“Daniel Cooper. Moved in a few weeks ago.”

He kept hold of my hand after we shook; it felt comforting. I told him my name as I gazed up into a pair of azure eyes. A sexy smile, almost hidden by a neat dark beard, made my heart flip. His short hair was dark too, gelled into spikes at some earlier part of the day, flattened now by his helmet. And he was tall; I only reached as far as his shoulder.

I felt like I already new him, always had somehow. 'Must have seen him around' I thought,'in the street or the library maybe.'

“Mrs Beauchamp is your aunt isn't she? I remember her saying something about a great-niece.” He still had hold of my hand. “Is she all right? Didn't see her lights on last night.”

“She went into hospital yesterday with a chest infection” I answered. “I'm just checking on the house, collecting a few things for her.”

He smiled again and I found it hard to look away.

“I'm sorry to hear that. I could keep an eye on the place, if you like” he offered. “Let me have your number in case I need to call you.” He pulled a well worn phone case from the pocket of his biker jacket and flipped it open. The phone inside was hi-tech.

I fumbled in the black-hole that served as my handbag; there was a phone in there somewhere. I put things in and somehow they just vanished. I felt a little foolish, but I never can remember my own number. Isn't that what the phone's memory is for, so you don't have to remember? Once I found it the rest was easy. Daniel saved my number and gave me another heart-stopping smile.

He kicked the stand away, said 'see you soon, Emily' and wheeled the motorbike alongside his house and out of sight, leaving me standing alone under a street lamp. It was fully dark now and lamplight pooled around me, but not for long though. In a few hours the lights would go off until morning. A money saving exercise by the local council. It would be black as pitch then. I checked the bungalow, made sure all the windows were closed and locked the front door. Although there was an alarm box on the front wall it was a fake; enough to deter burglars though. The windows and doors were all new. Daniel Cooper was keeping watch. All was well.

A little over a year ago there had been a spate of break-ins in Richmond Street. Just two days after Uncle Lewis had passed away someone broke in through the back bedroom window and stole Aunt Jen's engagement ring. They caught the b*****d quite quickly, but the ring was never recovered. It was insured, but the company wanted proof of purchase before they would pay out. Proof of purchase, after more than fifty years! A stiff letter from Sir Dickie soon sorted them out. Aunt Jen received a good sum and bought her self a replacement ring, a birthday present from Uncle Lewis, she said.

As I made my way up Perry Hill all hope of clearing my head vanished like smoke. But instead of worrying about Aunt Jen my mind was filled with new thoughts. Daniel Cooper's face burned bright in my memory; his gorgeous blue eyes and that sexy smile. I could still feel my hand in his, still had a sense of deep connection.

My phone cheeped in my bag and my hand went right to it. A new message, from an unknown number. I don't usually read strange messages, or emails, but something, hope maybe, made me open it.

'Hi Emily. Didn't give you my number. Call me anytime. D B Cooper'.

The penny dropped. Daniel Cooper; D B Cooper was his byline. I remembered Aunt Jen telling me he worked for the Yewell Valley Herald; I must have seen him covering some event or other,though that did not explain the deep down feeling of familiarity. Happiness lightened my heart all the way home.

They say you know when you've met someone special. They also say life is a roller coaster. Right now mine was soaring high doing a loop-the-loop.