Never Alone Read Free Page A

one I’m prepared to accept,’ he says.
    It’s an oddly formal way of phrasing it, and the way he’s looking at her is almost cold. ‘Oh,’ she says.
    ‘You could probably make five hundred a week if you let it out as a holiday cottage. As a residential let, maybe eight hundred a month?’
    ‘Maybe,’ she says, ‘But I’m not keen on having a stranger living there, and I don’t like the idea of a long-term commitment. Your using it would be ideal.’ To give herself time to think, she changes the subject. ‘So what are your plans? Have you got a job? I don’t even know why you’re moving back.’
    Aiden shifts in his seat, moves away slightly. Basil jumps up, then heads over to his food bowl in case something might have fallen into it since the last time he checked. ‘It felt like the right time. I was thinking of doing some freelance work for now, until I find something permanent.’
    ‘I’m being nosy, sorry.’
    ‘Not at all. It’s a valid question. What’s it like living here? Do you have good internet coverage?’
    ‘I’ve got broadband. The wireless even works in the cottage, but the signal’s not as strong. You might want to get your own router.’
    ‘I could work from home,’ he says.
    Sarah’s heart beats faster again. He said ‘home’. He thinks this place is home. ‘Absolutely.’
    ‘What’s the village like?’
    ‘It’s great – lovely friendly people. It’s got a few shops, coffee shops and tea rooms, a post office, a Chinese, a chippy, but I steer clear of that one. The pubs are nice. The restaurant in one of them is particularly good, but you have to book. There’s a new village hall, lots of things going on… events… you know.’
    He considers this, drinking his tea. At last he puts down his mug. ‘If you don’t like the idea of commitment, we can dispense with a contract. But I’ll pay you eight hundred a month, with a month in advance as a deposit. If you need me to leave, you can give me, say, a week’s notice. How does that sound?’
    ‘But we’re friends,’ she protests.
    ‘It doesn’t mean we can’t have a professional understanding over this particular issue. And I’m afraid I’m going to insist on it.’
    He’s so serious that she finds herself breaking into a smile. ‘Are you really?’
    ‘Yes.’
    And she gives up. ‘All right, then.’
    He offers her his hand to shake, and the deal is done. Her heart is beating hard enough, she thinks, for him to hear it. Eight hundred a month.
    He smiles, finishes his tea. Then looks up at her from under his brows. ‘You’re sure this is a good idea?’
    ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’
    He doesn’t answer. She has a horrible feeling it’s because he knows quite clearly how obsessed she is.
    ‘I promise I won’t trash the place, or have noisy parties without inviting you,’ he says.
    ‘And I promise I won’t ask you to fix the septic tank,’ she replies. His hand is warm, his grip firm.
    So it begins. 

Aiden
    When the tea is finished, she offers to show you the rest of the house. You accept. You need to see it, to picture where she lives, sleeps, works. How she spends her days. More than that, you need a way to keep the conversation going. You hadn’t expected this to be quite so awkward.
    Sarah leads the way from the large kitchen into a living room that’s half the size, with a big corner sofa unit that’s looking threadbare under the white cotton throws. The throws have been put there for your benefit, you realise, as one of the dogs makes a leap for the corner seat that has an indentation in it exactly to his dimensions. She shouts at him to get down, which he does, looking confused. She has a small television in the corner and a large bookcase covering one wall. You like this proportion and what it tells you about her.
    As well as the living room, there is a garden room and a conservatory. A downstairs loo and shower, a utility room with the back door leading off it.
    ‘The cottage has got a