The Accidental Life Swap Page 11

  ‘No, I don’t want to return them.’ I scurry after Mrs McColl, who is quite speedy despite her advanced years. ‘I’d like to buy more, if you still have them. There was a whole bag of clothes donated, apparently, which the skirt and top came from. The lady who served me this morning said they hadn’t been sorted yet. They were still out the back.’ I glance towards the closed door to the back room, hoping with all my might that it’s still tucked away there.

  Mrs McColl throws back her shoulders and observes me through narrowed eyes. ‘We have been awfully short-staffed today. I don’t usually work on Friday afternoons but I was asked to cover. So there may be a backlog. Which is highly unusual, I should add. We’re a very efficient team.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it.’ I give a quick scan of the shop and nod my head. ‘It all looks extremely ordered.’

  ‘It is. I pride myself on my organisational skills.’ Mrs McColl’s shoulders relax as she moves from behind the counter. ‘Now, you wait here and I’ll go and have a look in the back. We don’t usually leave the shop floor unsupervised but Elsie’s on her lunchbreak and needs must.’ She jabs a finger towards the ceiling. ‘CCTV, remember?’

  I wander over to peruse the books while I wait, but Mrs McColl has returned before I’ve even read the blurb of the first novel I pick up, hefting a bulging bin liner with her.

  ‘None of this has been steamed yet, so you’ll have to take it as it is.’ She heaves the bag up onto the counter. ‘And it hasn’t been priced, so you’ll have to bear with me if you see anything you like. I’ll leave you to have a good look through while I get on with my dusting.’ She shakes her head. ‘You can’t trust the morning volunteers to do a decent job of it.’

  The bag is stuffed with garments and footwear, which look largely unworn and all contain a high-end label. Like the skirt and top I bagged earlier, the clothes are all in my size. I’ve hit the jackpot! I pull each item out of the bag, scrutinising it before placing it on the yes or no pile I’ve set up on the counter. Once the bag is empty, I take the yes pile into the changing room before returning triumphantly to the counter with six for-keeps outfits that I can mix and match with the garments I have back at the guesthouse. There’s even a pair of jeans and a grey striped T-shirt, which will be perfect for when I volunteer at the animal sanctuary, and I can’t resist the nude leather bomber jacket. I also pick up a pair of brown ankle boots from the footwear section and a couple of pretty scarves. And I get the lot for under a hundred quid. Bargain! I’ll have to borrow the money from the savings I’ve been accumulating to use as a deposit when I can finally move out of my current flat-share, but I have to look at it as an investment. If these outfits make me feel and look the part of Vanessa, that can only be a positive step to achieving my plan.

  Chapter 18

  I’m bunging a load of my new clothes in the washing machine when there’s a tentative knock on the guesthouse door. I’m expecting it to be Todd, sent over on a tea break mission, but it’s Oliver standing awkwardly on the drive. His hands are tucked deep into his jeans pockets and he’s looking everywhere but directly at me.

  ‘Can I have a quick word?’ Oliver scuffs the toes of his boot along the gravel, his gaze somewhere to my left. ‘It’s about tomorrow.’

  ‘Okay.’ Intrigued by Oliver’s change in stance, I move aside so he can step into the guesthouse, watching as he wipes his boots once, twice, three times on the mat before shuffling towards the sofa. ‘Let me just make you some room.’ Paperwork is littering the length of the sofa, so I gather the sheets up and shove them on the coffee table. There’s an uncomfortable silence as we settle ourselves on opposite ends of the sofa, and I’m about to prompt Oliver when he finally clears his throat and speaks.

  ‘I know you want us to work this Saturday.’ Oliver still can’t look at me and is currently eying the DVD collection on the shelf across the room. ‘But we’ve been planning a fun run to raise money for the animal sanctuary’s development for months. It’s all organised; permission to use the park, sign ups and sponsorship, the lot. And now, the day before, you decide to stamp your authority and pull four of the runners out so we can lay your flooring.’ While Oliver started off his little speech trite, somewhere along the way his voice has risen and has become more powerful. ‘Do you know how much money we’re going to lose in sponsorship? I mean, it’s probably nothing to you. You probably spend as much on a pair of shoes.’ His eyes flicker to the bags in the kitchen, and there’s a flicker of a frown as he spots the charity shop branding before he recomposes himself and jabs a finger at his chest. ‘But it’s important to us. So important. We need to raise every penny we can tomorrow to go towards the auction in a couple of weeks.’

  I could kick myself. I knew about the fun run. Stacey told me all about it this morning, but it slipped my mind in all the drama of getting the project back on track. Obviously Oliver will be taking part, but I had no idea the other builders were too.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Vanessa would never apologise in this situation and nor would she do what I’m about to, but I can’t lose every scrap of my humanity to this project. ‘And you’re right. You should take part in the fun run.’ I purse my lips as I do some calculations in my head. ‘What time is the fun run?’

  ‘It’s in the afternoon. From two o’ clock.’

  ‘How about a compromise?’ A dirty word in Vanessa’s book, but needs must. ‘You guys still work in the morning, get as much of the flooring down as you can, and then finish up in time for the fun run. Would that work?’

  Oliver blinks at me, momentarily mute, but then he nods. ‘Yes, I suppose that would work, but I was going to help set up.’

  ‘I could do that, if that’s okay with you and Stacey? I’m not going back to Manchester this weekend after all, so I could lend a hand. I can help clear up afterwards, and not just so that you can get back to the flooring.’ I try out a smile in Oliver’s direction and I’m relieved to see his features have softened, even if he doesn’t return the gesture. ‘Just tell me what you need me to do and I’ll do it.’

  ‘Okay.’

  I only get one simple word in response, but I’ll take it. We both get up and head for the door.

  ‘Is Vincent really taking part in the fun run?’

  A bubble of laughter spills out before Oliver can block it with his hand, but he cuts it off by clearing his throat and giving a solemn nod.

  ‘Really?’ I can’t imagine Vincent running for pleasure, or even charity. I’ve heard his rasping puffs of breath from climbing the steps up to the house.

  ‘Yep.’ Oliver is still battling the mirth as a rare smile plays on his lips. ‘He’s asked us to have a medic on standby.’

  I was hoping the builders wouldn’t see my backing down as a sign of weakness and slow down, but it has the opposite effect. Grateful that I’m giving them the afternoon off, they work even harder and later than I expected and arrive early on Saturday morning, ready to work without needing a revitalising cup of tea. I’m so impressed, I don’t feel any reservations in leaving them to it while I head over to the park to help Stacey set up.

  ‘You came.’ There’s a hint of a frown as Stacey sees me walking towards her, but it smooths away quickly and she attempts a smile. She still doesn’t trust me, but then why should she? She’s heard nothing but horror stories about Vanessa and then I rock up and confirm the rumours.

  ‘Have you met Julia?’ Stacey leads the way to the tent set up in the middle of the park, where there’s a bar set up inside.

  ‘From the Farmer’s Arms?’ I recognise the barmaid from my first day in the village. Her arms are full of wooden bangles, which clink together each time she reaches for the crate beside her to stock the fridge.

  ‘That’s right.’ Julia stands up with a wince and brushes at the knees of her skinny jeans. ‘We’re sponsoring today’s fun run, plus supplying drinks for the thirsty masses afterwards.’ She winks at me. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name?’

  Naturally, my actu
al name forms on my lips, but I stop myself in the nick of time. ‘Vanessa Whitely.’ I thrust my hand out towards her. ‘I’m doing up the house at Arthur’s Pass.’

  ‘About time someone did something with that place.’ The bangles clink as Julia pumps my hand up and down. ‘Ellie and Tom gave it a go, bless ‘em, but it’s a big job. The plan was for them to live in the guesthouse while they did the main house up, but they never made it out of there and in the end they had to sell up, and pretty quickly it seems. They were here one minute, gone the next.’ Julia frowns. ‘They still owed me a couple of quid for the footie card.’

  Their swift exit explains why the guesthouse is fully furnished, I guess.

  ‘Shall we get on with setting up?’ Stacey starts to guide me away from the bar before she lowers her voice. ‘She’ll gossip all day if you let her.’ She rubs her hands together. ‘And we’ve got lots to do. Can you help me with these tables?’

  There’s a pile of half a dozen folding tables stacked up just outside the tent, and we grab an end each of the first table, with Stacey leading the way.

  ‘The route is pretty easy to follow – it’s just once or twice around the perimeter of the park, depending on age, ability or optimism.’ Stacey comes to a stop and we lay the table on its side so we can pull the legs out into place. ‘But we’ll put some cones out, so there’s no confusion. These tables are going to be set out at intervals with bottles of water, just in case people forget to bring their own, and there’ll be one at the start and finish, for registration and the medals.’

  We set out the tables and cones with the help of a few more volunteers and then I’m tasked with helping out with the registrations and handing out the numbered stickers for the participants to attach to their tops.

  ‘There’s quite a turnout,’ I say when Oliver arrives at the table. The race doesn’t start for another half an hour, yet there are over a hundred people either warming up at the starting line or downing some ill-advised Dutch courage in the tent.

  ‘We’ve been lucky.’ Oliver peels the backing off his sticker and presses it to his T-shirt. It’s quite a tight T-shirt but I try not to notice the way it clings to the contours of his body. The rather nicely sculpted contours that his physical job – and perhaps the gym – has earned him. ‘The whole community has come together to support us. They’ve been amazing.’

  ‘How’s everything been at the house?’ I probably shouldn’t bring it up right now, but although I’m confident about the effort the builders were putting in earlier, I can’t ignore the flutter of butterflies in my stomach. My career is depending on this, after all.

  ‘Great.’ Oliver gives an enthusiastic nod of his head. ‘I think we’ll be done with a final push tomorrow.’

  ‘Really?’ I press my hands together as though in prayer. ‘That would be incredible. Thank you so much.’

  Oliver gives a one-shouldered shrug before he moves on, calling over his shoulder as he goes. ‘It’s what I’m paid to do.’

  Once the registrations are complete and the fun run is about to start, Stacey sends me to the first water station. The race starts and I see a few familiar faces jog by; Stacey and Oliver are running side-by-side, closely followed by an enthusiastic-looking Todd, who is wearing a one-piece lycra bodysuit that is so tight, I can practically see every bone of his skeleton. Harvey is jogging alongside a group of women, doing his best to be charming while keeping his breathing steady, and Vincent, bless him, is almost the last of the pack, with only a crew of elderly ladies bringing up the rear as they stroll along the route. Mrs McColl is leading the silver-haired strollers, powering slightly ahead of the woman who sold me the leather skirt in the charity shop this morning.

  Stacey and Oliver pass me a second time, still side-by-side, and Harvey and Todd have opted for two laps of the park too, though Todd is less enthusiastic now as he half-staggers, half-jogs his way past, clutching his side and looking as though he’d quite welcome death to put him out of his misery.

  Stacey makes a short speech once the race has finished, and the crowds pile into the beer tent for some well-earned refreshments afterwards. The clean-up starts straight away, and I help to fold and load the tables into the van waiting at the entrance of the park before setting off with a bin liner and a litter picker. My back is aching by the time I’ve patrolled the perimeter of the park, and I’m starting to feel guilty that I sent Oliver and the others back to the house to carry on working after their run, even though I know Vanessa would have no qualms about it. By the time Stacey has thanked me for my help and dismissed me, I’ve made up my mind. Returning to the house, I gather the builders in the hallway.

  ‘Are you sure the flooring will be completed tomorrow?’ I ask Vincent, glad I have someone else to focus on other than Todd, who is still wearing the lycra bodysuit along with his work boots. He looks absolutely ridiculous and I have to avert my gaze every time he bends over.

  Vincent nods. ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Great.’ I clap my hands together. ‘Then I think we should head back to the park for a celebratory drink. And the first round is on me.’

  Chapter 19

  The beer tent is still pretty full when we arrive back at the park, minus Todd who has sloped off home to change. I tried to be diplomatic as I suggested that he might want to change out of the lycra bodysuit, but it took Harvey’s less tactful observation that Todd ‘looks like a knob’ for him to take the hint. As promised, I buy the first round, as a thank you for the builders’ hard work over the past couple of days.

  ‘You know what?’ Harvey leans against the bar as he takes a sip of his pint. ‘You’re not so bad once you take that stick out of your arse.’ He winks at me, a slow smile playing at his lips. ‘And you’re pretty fit.’

  I’m not sure how to react. I’m sure it was meant as a compliment, even if it was delivered in a sleazy manner and Harvey’s gaze has dropped to my chest, but it definitely leaves me feeling uncomfortable and a bit icky. What would Vanessa do in this situation?

  ‘My eyes are up here, pal.’ Reaching out, I take Harvey’s chin between my thumb and index finger, squeezing them together with slightly more force than is strictly necessary, and tilt it until our eyes lock. ‘And I’m paying your wages. Don’t think you can cross any lines.’

  Harvey sighs as I release my grip on his chin. He shakes his head as he lifts his pint, pausing before taking another sip. ‘And the stick is firmly back in place.’

  ‘We will get this job finished on time, you know.’ Vincent hands me a glass of wine shortly afterwards. I didn’t know he was buying another round, but I’m grateful. The first glass went down very nicely and I can feel the tension slipping away from my bunched-up shoulders.

  ‘I hope so.’

  Vincent holds his pint aloft. ‘I give you my word.’ And then he downs his drink in one, which doesn’t bode well for our early start tomorrow. I keep quiet, not wanting to be a party pooper and prove Harvey’s analysis of the stick and its location right.

  Todd turns up in a pair of jeans and a checked shirt, which is a much better look than the bodysuit, and the group decide to move onto the pub as it starts to grow dark. I watch them amble away, teasing and ribbing each other, and weigh up whether it would be wise to order one more drink before I go home. I’m not a big drinker but I am enjoying the effects of the wine and, if I’m honest, I’m not relishing the thought of a Saturday evening on my own in the guesthouse.

  ‘Vanessa?’ Todd has somehow un-wedged himself from Harvey’s signature headlock and is looking back at me. ‘Aren’t you coming?’

  I wasn’t aware that I’d been part of the plans to move onto the pub, and I’m still not sure I’d be a welcome addition as I gauge the reaction from the others. Oliver is looking down at the ground while Harvey is shooting daggers at his wrestling buddy.

  ‘Why not?’ Not only will I show Harvey that I do not have a stick lodged anywhere about my person, I’ll also avoid the long, lonely stretch of evening ahead.

&n
bsp; *

  The evening turns out to be surprisingly fun as we feed money into the jukebox at the Farmer’s Arms and try to outdo each other with the cheesiest song choices. The more wine I drink, the more relaxed I feel, and I even succumb to Harvey’s gentle goading and knock back a couple of shots of tequila, which I haven’t done since my student union days. The battle lines Oliver and I have marked out over the past few days start to blur as the evening draws on, and when he chooses Tight Fit’s ‘The Lion Sleeps Tonight’ on the jukebox, I join in with the merriment as we stagger around the pool table in a sort of conga line with added animal moves.

  Gosh, I must have drunk more than I thought as I’d usually be too self-conscious to throw myself around with such abandonment in public, but it’s actually quite freeing. My arm is held up in front of me, swinging like an elephant’s trunk when I stumble into the corner of the pool table and end up on my bottom, laughing at the hilarity and trying not to pee myself.

  ‘I think it’s time we got you home.’ Oliver holds out a hand and heaves me to my feet. I stumble again but manage to stay upright. ‘Where did everybody go?’

  I glance around the pub for a familiar face, but apart from Oliver, who is holding me steady, and Julia behind the bar, I don’t recognise anybody. I know Vincent left earlier after several phone calls from his other half, but I’m sure Harvey and Todd were here a moment ago, prancing around like a gorilla and a gazelle respectively.

  ‘Maybe they’re in the bogs?’ I shrug and grab my handbag, which I’d dumped on a table earlier, almost taking out a couple of empty glasses like a wrecking ball. ‘Can we get a kebab on the way home? I really, really fancy a kebab.’

  ‘You’re in Little Heaton, remember?’ Oliver guides me away from the pool table, making sure I don’t propel myself into a table full of drinks or trip over my own feet. ‘There aren’t any takeaways around. There’s a fish and chip shop, but it’s over by the cricket grounds and there’s no way I’m propping you up that far.’