The Accidental Life Swap Read online

  ‘Oh my God, are you still playing?’

  I’m about to roll the dice, but I look towards the doorway, where Stacey is standing with her arms folded across her chest. She’s shaking her head at us, a look of pure bewilderment on her face.

  ‘Of course we are.’ Oliver indicates that I should go ahead and roll. ‘There’s still plenty of life in the game yet. Look, Vanessa still has money. Not much, admittedly …’ He flashes me a smug grin and gives a one-shouldered shrug. ‘But the game doesn’t end until I’ve taken the shirt off her back.’ His eyes widen and he holds up his hands. ‘Not literally, obviously.’

  ‘I may not have much money right now, but that’s because I’ve been heavily investing in my properties. Plus, I have enough to buy Mayfair and I’m only …’ I count the spaces on the board. ‘Seven spaces away and it’s my turn to roll.’ I give the dice a vigorous shake before spilling them onto the board. A four and a … six. Damn it! Oliver whoops as I snatch the battleship piece and move it to the Super Tax space, rubbing his hands together as I slide a hundred-pound note from my meagre stack and throw it into the bank.

  ‘Better luck next time.’ Oliver scoops up the dice, still tittering to himself as he rolls.

  ‘Guys, it’s almost ten o’ clock. You’ve been playing for hours.’ Stacey steps into the room, and I put a protective arm around the board, in case she’s planning to tidy the game away before we’re ready. ‘I’ve fed the kittens twice, for goodness’ sake. You need to stop.’

  ‘Not just yet.’ Oliver moves his counter, safely landing on his own property and purchasing another house.

  ‘I’ve got a busy day tomorrow.’ Stacey pulls a chair out and flops down onto it. ‘I’ve got Dianne Baxter coming over to discuss the Brownies’ role in the open day and Mrs McColl wants to plan the cake stall. I need to sleep.’

  ‘Then sleep.’ Oliver waves her away but Stacey doesn’t move.

  ‘I can’t leave you down here. I know how obsessed you get, and who do you think will have to deal with Mrs McColl when she finds you cluttering her café in the morning?’

  I’m about to snatch up the dice but pause and look at Stacey. The poor woman does look exhausted and I’m overstaying my welcome.

  ‘Stacey’s right. It’s getting late and I should get going.’

  Oliver’s grin is wide, his eyes shining and his hands clenched into tight fists. ‘Are you forfeiting?’

  ‘Absolutely not.’ I wouldn’t dream of it. Dad didn’t raise a board game quitter. ‘Count your money.’

  Oliver snorts. ‘Is that really necessary? I’ve clearly got more than you.’

  ‘Yes, it is necessary.’ Hooking my handbag with my foot, I scrape it towards me and rummage inside for my phone. ‘Because we’re not done yet, pal. We’re only just getting started.’ Opening the camera app on my phone, I take a snapshot of the board. ‘Let’s get this over to my place so I can continue to whoop your butt.’

  ‘Continue to whoop my butt?’ Oliver snorts again. ‘When did you start to?’

  Oh, I’m going to wipe the floor with this smug git and I won’t even have to unleash Vanessa Whitely to do so.

  ‘You’re not seriously going to take that over to your place and set it up again, are you?’ The bewildered look is back on Stacey’s face.

  ‘We seriously are.’ I waggle my phone at her. ‘And we’re going to carry on where we left off.’

  ‘You’re both insane.’ Stacey stands up and tucks her chair back under the table. ‘But at least I won’t have to witness it.’

  Chapter 21

  It physically hurts to open my eyes when my alarm goes off the following morning. I’ve only managed a few hours of sleep after the Monopoly game, but I’m determined to drag myself out of bed without hitting the snooze button. After a rocky start with Stacey and Oliver, it feels as though there was an unspoken truce between us yesterday and I’m hoping it continues. Spending time with them yesterday was fun and if I’m going to be here for a few more weeks, it would be nice not to be so isolated and make some friends.

  Stacey’s in the middle of feeding the kittens, so it’s Mrs McColl who lets me into the animal sanctuary. Wanting to make myself useful – and possibly prove myself – I decide to head straight out into the yard to get started on the daily routines. Changing into a pair of wellies and pulling on a pair of gloves and a hat (it’s far too cold for vanity this morning), I head outside, ignoring the swirl of apprehension I feel as I ease the chicken coop open. Chow Mein, the chicken who herded me across the yard a few days ago, is out first but this time I stand my ground and she plods past me without so much as a sideways glance. Patty is next, startling me and making me take a step backwards as she ruffles her feathers, but she’s simply having a morning stretch and continues on her way to the patch of grass. I take a deep breath. I can do this. If I can persuade Vincent and the guys to finish the flooring over the weekend, I can deal with a few chickens.

  ‘Come on, girls.’ The remaining chickens have yet to emerge from the coop but, as brave as I’m telling myself to be, I don’t want to be sticking my hands in there with all those beaks. I clap my hands as best as I can inside the thick gloves in a bid to encourage the emptying of the coop. Would whistling work, or is that only a dog thing?

  ‘Please?’ I crouch down, wincing as my knee is still sore. ‘Come out and play with your sisters so I can clean out your house.’ Stacey will be down soon and I don’t want her to catch me pleading with her chickens. I’m supposed to be in control. Strong. Gutsy. I’m not supposed to be a wuss. ‘Fine. We’ll do this the hard way.’ I can’t quite believe what I’m doing, but I appear to be reaching into the coop. I try to muffle a squeal as I give one of the chickens a gentle nudge. Amazingly, the chicken toddles out into the yard leaving me with all five fingers intact. I did it! I’m more capable than I think I am, which is a valuable lesson I’m going to need over the coming weeks if I’m going to get this house party-ready in time.

  I’m on a bit of a high after managing to clean out the coop without being pecked to death, and I have a definite swagger of confidence as I make my way across the drive later that morning with one of the lever arch files tucked under my arm. Vincent has just pulled up in his van, and he jumps out, laughing at something one of the others has said, but the amusement fades away, his features taking on a more serious look when he spots me. He nods in greeting and waits for me to catch up while Todd and Harvey shuffle towards the steps.

  ‘Good morning, Vincent.’ I give a curt nod of my own. ‘Ready for our little chat?’

  ‘I’ve been on tenterhooks all night, ma’am.’

  ‘Ma’am?’ I purse my lips before beaming at Vincent. ‘I know you were being sarcastic, but I like it. Why don’t we give it a trial?’

  Vincent’s mouth gapes. I walk past him, trying not to giggle as I make my way up the steps. I unlock the door and make my way through to what will one day soon become the living room. It’s a bright, airy room, with super-high ceilings and bi-fold doors leading out onto the garden overlooking the canal, and my heels clip-clop on the newly laid solid wood flooring.

  ‘The decorators are due in two weeks.’ I decide to get straight to business. It’s what Vanessa would do. ‘And we’ve got a lot to get done before then. The plumber will be arriving at any moment to make a start on installing the boiler and fit the radiators, and the electrician will be joining us on Wednesday. I’ve revised the list of jobs your team needs to be getting on with and the timescale I expect them to be completed by.’ I give Vincent my sternest look, to show him that I won’t be making any allowances or accepting any excuses as I open the file and take out a copy of the new to-do list and hand it over. ‘I know it’s a tight schedule, but this job will be finished on time because I have a very important event planned here and you wouldn’t want to let me down, would you, Vincent?’

  Vincent shakes his head, his eyes still working its way down the list. ‘No. Of course not.’

  I lean in close to Vinc
ent, trying my hardest to keep a straight face. ‘What happened to ma’am?’

  Vincent tears his eyes away from the list, his eyebrows pulled down low. ‘You weren’t actually serious about that, were you?’

  I close the file and tuck it back under my arm, already walking away without answering the question. ‘Sounds like the plumber’s here. You should be making a start on that list.’ I only make it as far as the doorway before something occurs to me and I turn back around. ‘Where’s Oliver, by the way?’

  Vincent shrugs. He’s looking down at the list again, but I can see the corners of his lips lifting. ‘Maybe he had a late night? Or maybe he’s worn out.’ Vincent looks up now, locking eyes with me. ‘You know, from the fun run?’

  ‘That was two days ago, and he seemed okay yesterday.’

  Vincent nods, and his lips are twitching again. ‘He did, didn’t he? Maybe something else happened to, er, wear him out?’ He starts to whistle as he makes his way into the hallway, only pausing to yell for Todd and Harvey to join him.

  With the builders and the plumber busy working on their respective jobs, I head over to the guesthouse, waving as Oliver’s van swings onto the drive, so I can get on with some paperwork. Although I’ve made good progress with the mess Nicole left behind, there’s still a lot to get my head around. I’m staring at the array of invoices and receipts in bafflement when my phone starts to ring. I’m hoping it’s Emma as I haven’t had the chance to chat to her since Friday, before I made a complete fool of myself with Oliver. He thinks I’ve forgotten all about it, but my insides still burn with shame whenever the image pops into my head, which it does far too often. Emma will make me feel better. She’ll do her best to convince me that I’m not an ogre, that the reason Oliver rejected me is because I’m simply not his type. I won’t believe her, but it’ll be nice to hear it.

  But it isn’t Emma and I feel a knot of dread when I see my boss’s name on the display.

  ‘Hi, Vanessa!’ My bright tone belies the tightening knot in my stomach. ‘How are you?’

  There’s a slight pause before she speaks, and I can imagine she’s frowning, wondering why I’m asking a question I never have before. Vanessa and I don’t do pleasantries. She doesn’t have the time or inclination for it. ‘I’m absolutely fine.’ There’s another pause, where I imagine she’s asking herself why wouldn’t I be? ‘Anyway, I’m just calling to reschedule my visit. I take it Emma told you I couldn’t make it today? There was an appointment I didn’t see on the calendar. Stupid thing.’ She mutters the last bit before continuing in her usual brisk manner without waiting for confirmation that I did indeed know about the change of plan. ‘I thought we could do Wednesday instead.’ It isn’t a question. Vanessa is coming on Wednesday, which isn’t ideal. The electrician is due to start that day and although this means we’re making progress, we’re still far behind where we should be at this point. I need a bit more time to catch up, to at least appear like I have a handle on the project.

  ‘Aren’t you terribly busy with the Heron Farm Festival?’ I’m clutching at straws, but this is quite a substantial one. The Heron Farm Festival is a big event, one Vanessa and the team have been working on for weeks and which I’d hoped to be a part of. The knot in my stomach constricts again when I think about how much effort I put into the ideas that will never see the light of day.

  ‘Sonia’s really put herself forward on the project over the past few days and brought some wonderful ideas to the table, and Emma’s on board to take care of the admin side, so I can spare an afternoon.’

  Emma’s working on the Heron Farm Festival? She never said anything to me about it, just that Vanessa had asked her to help with some ‘stuff’, which I took to mean my ‘stuff’. Emma’s my closest friend, but I can’t help feeling a bit sick that she’s getting to work on the project I coveted. I know I shouldn’t be jealous of her success, that I should be happy for my friend, but I can’t help feeling the bite of disappointment that Emma’s been given this opportunity in my absence, even if it is only an administrative role.

  ‘So I’ll see you on Wednesday afternoon then.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to it.’ I’m lying, but Vanessa has already hung up anyway.

  Vanessa is visiting in two days’ time. We’re nowhere near ready for her to clap eyes on the property. And the team think I’m her. I’m in a major pickle here.

  Chapter 22

  Work is coming along nicely over at the main house when I pop over with a tray of refreshments, and I’m bowled over when I return later in the day and see how quickly the kitchen is progressing. The units and the large island are starting to take shape, and although the walls are still bare plaster with wires sticking out ready for the light fittings and sockets to be fitted, you can really see how the finished space will function. The whole house is going to be stunning when it’s finished and it’ll pain me to return to my grotty flat-share.

  ‘I hope you haven’t forgotten about our rematch this evening?’ The plumber has left for the day and Vincent is packing up the van while Harvey and Todd thumb wrestle on the drive so I’ve managed to catch Oliver on his own.

  Oliver makes a ‘pfft’ sound and gives me an odd look. ‘Of course not. Just let me nip home for a wash and a change and grab something quick to eat and I’ll be ready to kick your butt. Again.’

  Oliver won the game of Monopoly last night, but only because he managed to buy Mayfair and block my plan for world domination. I suggested a rematch and Oliver was happy to oblige.

  I raise my eyebrows, but I don’t rise to the bait. ‘Why don’t I cook for us?’ Too late, I realise it sounds like I’m proposing a date. And a cosy one at that. ‘I mean, I say “cook”…’ I use air quotes and everything and immediately feel like a prat. ‘But I’m really only offering a ready meal that we can eat off our laps. That way, we can play and eat at the same time. Kill two birds and all that. Give you more time to “kick my butt”.’ There are the air quotes again, followed by a look of disdain that suggests it wouldn’t happen in a million years.

  I couldn’t resist that bait after all.

  ‘Okay.’ Oliver gives a lazy shrug. ‘Fine by me. But don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you’ve fed me.’

  My jaw drops. ‘I wasn’t expecting anything of the kind. When I thrash you – which I absolutely will – it’ll be because I’m a far superior player than you.’

  Oliver makes that ‘pfft’ sound again as he starts to walk away. ‘Keep dreaming, mate.’ I stick my tongue out at his back but quickly retract it as he turns to face me. ‘Don’t think I can’t see your reflection in the window.’ I remain silent, my face the picture of innocence. ‘I’ll see you in about half an hour then?’

  I wait until Oliver has disappeared from view before I lock up and tear across the drive as quickly as I can with my still-busted knee and the loose stones. Half an hour isn’t much time when the living room of the guesthouse looks like a tornado has passed through a filing cabinet and tossed every scrap of paper in the air, leaving them to flutter and land wherever the wind has taken them. Plus, I should probably change out of the restrictive pencil skirt I chose from my new collection of clothes this morning, which was fine for appearing professional but not very comfortable for an evening of Monopoly. My jeans haven’t been in the wash yet and they still smell like donkey, so I grab a pair of leather-look leggings and a burnt orange asymmetrical top.

  I’ve just set up the Monopoly board and plumped the cushions on the sofa for the third time when there’s a knock at the door. Smoothing down my top and throwing my shoulders back, I stride towards the door with a confidence that is full-on fake. Even though I know this isn’t a date – and Oliver definitely doesn’t consider it a date – I’m nervous. But at least I won’t be drunk this time and therefore less likely to make a fool of myself.

  ‘Change of plan.’ I step aside as Stacey waltzes into the guesthouse, leaving Oliver to mouth his apologies in her wake. ‘We’re all going to the pub
instead of playing that.’ She wafts a hand in the direction of the Monopoly board. ‘And I don’t want to hear any arguing or excuses. Oliver’s already tried and it won’t wash.’ I look at Oliver, who gives a shrug of defeat. ‘One of my regular volunteers has offered to watch the kittens for a couple of hours, so come on, chop chop. I’m on the clock here, people.’

  ‘My sister can be a bossy cow at times,’ Oliver mumbles as Stacey powers ahead towards the lane.

  I zip up my jacket, having not been permitted the two seconds to do so back at the guesthouse. ‘Maybe we can play later?’

  Oliver grins at me. ‘There’s no need, unless you don’t like Scrabble?’

  I give him a sideways ‘puh-lease’ look. ‘I am the queen of Scrabble.’

  ‘Good.’ Oliver rubs his hands together, and not because it’s chilly. ‘Because there’s a set behind the bar of the Farmers.’

  *

  Stacey isn’t happy that we’ve hijacked her evening in the pub with our game of Scrabble (even though she hijacked our plans first) and she lets us know every thirty seconds or so, either by sighing loudly or telling us outright. She’s refused to take part and is currently grumbling into her gin and tonic about what a pair of losers we are as I place the word ‘wheezily’ onto the board while trying not to look too smug that my Z is on a double letter square.

  ‘You didn’t get out much as a kid, did you?’ Stacey’s voice is dripping with disdain and although I know she’s playing the part of the disgruntled spectator and probably doesn’t really mean it, it hits a nerve. Dad’s strictness meant my social life was seriously lacking until I left for uni.