Page 8 of The Trouble With Love

‘Why do you want the Jeep, Cerys?’ Kai appeared at the top of the stairs. In contrast to everywhere else in the place, the staircase was plain wood, the newel post crying out for a series of skulls and demons and he stood out as the most decorative thing about it. ‘It’s not the babies, is it?’

‘A lift to the main road for this lady.’ Cerys smiled up at him. ‘It’s okay, they’re staying put for a bit.’

‘Good.’ He put a lot of feeling into the word and I smirked a bit to myself. Typical bloke, doesn’t mind doing the impregnating, but gets all huffy at the thought of his life being disrupted by kids. He came down the stairs towards us and I was taken aback again by the sunset-gold of his eyes. And his height.

‘Aw, shut up you fat-faced scour-bum.’ The words were severe but the tone was mild. ‘Go take . . .’

‘Holly,’ he supplied.

‘. . . Holly back to her car. I’ll carry on with the unpacking.’ She gave me a final beaming smile and, rubbing her back again, headed off down the hallway towards regions unknown.

‘Okay. I know when I’m being sent away.’ Kai pulled the battered leather jacket he’d worn in the pub off a peg behind the door and rummaged in a pocket. ‘Come on.’ He led the way out of the door and I noticed that even the steps leading down were ornamented with little incised gothic-type patterns.

‘Whoever designed this place would not have been popular with the builders,’ I said, following him round the (equally ornamented) back of the cottage. ‘He must have watched their every move, to make sure they didn’t try slipping in some plain stonework, for a rest. There’s so much ornamentation going on that it can only be hope that’s stopping the place falling apart. It must be like living in a brick doily.’

‘Apparently it was designed by a warlock,’ Kai said conversationally. ‘There’s some kind of occult meaning to the symbols. Although there’s even gargoyles in the bathroom, and anyone who wants to get occult while they’re having a piss has gone a step beyond the merely supernaturally-inclined, if you ask me.’

I never thought that a breeze-block 1950s garage would come as a relief to look at, but this one did. ‘Hop in.’ Kai unlocked the big Jeep and his legs were so long that he could step up into the driver’s seat. ‘Where to?’

I pointed along the track. ‘Out on the road.’

He pulled a face. ‘Mind if we go the long way round? There’s someone I’m keeping an eye on in the woods. I’d like to check he’s not lurking around anywhere too close to the house.’

‘He wouldn’t be a big ginge dressed like Mellors, without the sex appeal?’

For that I got a sideways look. It gave me the chance to notice that Kai had long, dark eyelashes to match his long, dark hair, and really rather nice cheekbones under some seriously journalistic stubble. ‘Yeah,’ he said slowly. ‘You know him?’

‘We’ve met. But anyone who carries a gun into woodland with a footpath running through it and in rapidly dwindling light is not a guy I want to encounter again, so if we see him, I shall be hiding behind the seat.’

We roiled and bounced out onto the track, heading deeper into the forest, with the headlights slicing the dark into shreds. Kai didn’t speak again, except to swear briefly when a fox trotted across our path and made him brake suddenly. In the end I felt obliged to say something. ‘Have you got any names yet?’

‘Names?’

‘For the twins. Your wife was saying it’s one of each, and they’re due next month? You’ll really have your work cut out to get the place ready, won’t you?’

‘Cerys isn’t my wife.’

‘Partner then, if you’re going to get all trendy about it.’

‘She’s my daughter.’

My jaw clicked as it fell. He’d got a broad grin on his face, even though he wasn’t looking at me. ‘But how the hell . . . ?’ I turned to stare at him. ‘I mean, you’re . . .’

‘Flattered, actually. I’m thirty-six. Cerys is twenty.’ Now he turned to look at me. ‘Cerys’s mum and I were at school together. I don’t know if you’ve ever been in North Wales on a wet Sunday, but there’s not a lot to do, and nothing is open. Particularly the chemists’. When Merion got pregnant, we got married, disaster, of course, at sixteen. But we stayed friends, she moved to Peterborough and married Mike, brought Cerys up there. Cerys is staying with me for a bit while her bastard boyfriend comes to his senses regarding two lots of child support. So.’ He lifted his foot and the Jeep slowed to walking speed. ‘There you go, that’s me.’ He still looked amused, but now there was something more intense about his expression. ‘What’s your story?’

‘Boring. Born in York, moved to Malton. Worked in London for a while for a production company, went into location scouting. When Ma and Dad moved to Scotland to be near Auntie Mairi, I moved back.’

‘For Nicholas.’ The Jeep bucked and a large branch cracked beneath the wheels. For a second I thought we’d been shot at.

‘Well, not entirely. But partly.’

‘What’s his diagnosis?’

It always felt disloyal, discussing my brother with anyone outside the medical profession. ‘He’s got a few problems, there’s nothing definitive. But he’s coping, the new medication is great and he’s started going out a bit more. I mean, I still have to keep an eye on him, pop round most mornings before I start work, that kind of thing, but . . . yes, he’s definitely improving.’

There was a few seconds of quiet as the track evened out before us. Then Kai spoke, his voice very low. ‘It must be hard for you.’

‘And you must be a bloody good interviewer. There’s the road, you can let me out here.’

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