Page 32 of Joker in the Pack

A sigh escaped. A new year, a new start, but I still wished I could back up 365 days. This time last January, I’d been bursting with joy as Edward and I headed for a minibreak in Barcelona.

But I was stuck at Lilac Cottage, and I needed to make the best of it.

Woohoo! I checked my emails as I made myself a cheese sandwich for breakfast and found I’d sold four items on eBay. A window squeegee, two necklaces, and the blanket with feet. I spent the morning packing them up as well as listing more junk while I waited on hold for the accounts department at the electricity company. Maddie had lent me her super-duper recharging battery, but my phone was almost dead.

By lunchtime, I had a promise of reconnection that afternoon, and I couldn’t help smiling as I carried the first lot of Aunt Ellie’s tat out of the house. One small step for Lilac Cottage, one giant leap for Olivia.

In the post office, a grey-haired lady adjusted her glasses and craned her neck up to look at me. At five feet three, I’d never felt tall, but I towered a clear head above her.

“You’re the new girl. You’ve moved into Eleanor Rigby’s old house.”

News sure travelled fast. “That’s right.”

“Living with a man, are you?”

Living in sin, she meant. Her disdain when she said the word “man” was all too obvious.

“No, I’m on my own.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I heard you bought an awful lot of food yesterday.”

So, old Floyd enjoyed a bit of gossip, did he? It was tempting to fan the flames, but then I thought back to what Warren said about being accepted.

“Some friends came to help me move furniture and, er, things.”

“Things? You mean all that rubbish Mrs. Rigby kept buying?”

“You know about that?”

“Could hardly miss it, could I? The postman used to moan about her packages doing his back in every morning, and all because the woman was incapable of passing up a bargain.”

I thought back to the junk I’d been cataloguing that morning. How much of a bargain were an extendable backscratcher and a roll-up jigsaw mat?

“There is rather a lot of stuff in the house.”

“You’ll be needing a skip, you mean?”

“Actually, I’m hoping to sell most of it on eBay.”

The woman cackled so hard her false teeth came loose. She shoved them back in with one hand and held out the other to me.

“I’m Betty. I should introduce myself seeing as you’re going to be my new best customer.” Her grip was surprisingly strong.

“Olivia Porter. Did you know Mrs. Rigby well?”

“I don’t think anybody around here did. She and that no-good son of hers kept to themselves.”

A chill ran through me. A son? Aunt Ellie had a son? How had Mickey missed that? Could this son have me evicted from the house?

“Does he live around here? Her son?” The quake in my voice was all too evident.

“In a manner of speaking. He’s buried in the churchyard not too far from his mother. Good riddance, I say.”

Dead? Relief washed through me, quickly followed by guilt. “Oh. That’s, er…”

“You didn’t know him, then?”

“I barely knew Aunt Ellie. Inheriting her house was a complete surprise.”

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