It Started With a Note by Victoria Cooke

Author:Victoria Cooke
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008310257
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2018-11-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

I’ve found a job. Complete load of bollocks it is, but it will get me out of your hair. Am I OK to stay in your grand palace for two more weeks until I can sort a flat out? Gaz

I read the message in Gary’s voice complete with the sarcastic tone I know he intended and slump on the bed in relief. At least I’d be able to get the empty-nest syndrome business dealt with and start walking the path laid out for me. It would be impossible while caring for that man-child.

Congratulations. That’s great news about the job – I knew you could do it. Yes, of course you can stay for two weeks.

I pause before hitting send. Something occurs to me, something I should have done a while ago, and that is to stop being such a blooming pushover. I add a few more words to the message before hitting send. I don’t even put my phone down because I know he’ll reply straight away, and he does. His messages come through short and snappy, and I smile because I know it’s his stream-of-consciousness style.

Fix the bathroom mirror?

It’s not really in my skill set as an engineer.

I don’t have the right tools.

I’m about to reply but it’s time for some tough love. He can’t keep relying on me to help him out of difficult situations. It’s quite bizarre that he’s coming to me for help with a tricky situation that I’ve purposely put him in to make him more independent. I laugh at the irony and put my phone down. Gary can figure this one out on his own.

The phone buzzes endlessly as I pack the last few bits in my suitcase. Only once I’ve finished do I check it.

Do you have any tools?

Don’t worry yourself, I’ve found your little toolkit.

All done! Happy now, slave driver?

You don’t have any plasters, do you?

I giggle at the last one and send a short reply now his lesson is over.

Thank you – plasters in the cupboard above the fridge.

I settle the bill at the hotel and set off on the five-minute walk to my new room, suitcase in tow. Olivier had offered to help me move but he was heading off on an overnight trip to London this morning and could only help at some ungodly hour that Kieran would probably consider ‘time to leave the club and get a kebab’. Having him make all that effort to help me pull one wheelie suitcase was unnecessary, but he was persistent. He only agreed to let me do it alone when I told him in no uncertain terms that no way was I getting up at silly o’clock in the morning.

It’s a damp, soggy day and the temperature seems to have dropped a few degrees. As I reach the apartment’s proximity, I double-check the address and map on my phone. It should be right ahead. I take a few steps forward trying to spot it when I see a man leaning in the doorway smoking a cigarette.

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