Page 13 of Perfect

As my stepbrother started to drag my case from the car, fear of the unknown beat within me like a drum. I looked around again for signs of human life. There was no one, just us, the cows and I could see sheep in one of the distant fields, their coats like cotton wool stuck against a green background. The place was seriously run-down. Had dad lost all his money or something? The farm was a proper shit hole.

Connor slammed the boot and started towards the house, this time carrying my case. He had probably forgotten that it was mine. I quietly fell in behind him, shooting invisible daggers into his broad back.

Although old and a bit worn-looking, as I got closer; I accepted that the house was fairly pretty. In a rustic kind of way. It had ivy taking up most of the crumbly stonework and looked to be around two storeys tall with four large Georgian-type windows on the front. The place had obviously been extended at some point as two newer sections sat on the side like a spider’s legs. I shuddered as I thought about how many actual spiders lived in it.

It was light-years away from the large family home I now shared with Mum, but it was OK, and I embraced the twinge I felt at the prospect of exploration.

Connor pushed through the large wooden front door, and I shuffled into the building behind him. The sweet smell of baking hit me and mixed in with the foulness of the outside air. It was a strange combination.

“Anna!” Connor bellowed across the hallway as he dropped my case at the bottom of some stairs. He didn’t even turn to check I was with him; he just stalked over to a mahogany side table and started leafing through some letters with a sour expression. It was like I wasn’t even there.

My grip tightened on my rucksack, and I fleetingly wondered who Anna was; his girlfriend, perhaps? I felt a spike of something indescribable at the thought. Surely not jealousy?

There wasn’t much light in the hallway, and it felt cold, which was strange considering it was the beginning of July. The floor was made of stone but was partially covered by a deep red patterned rug; the stairs leading up were part carpeted. You could see the polished wood peeking out at the sides. The walls were also panelled with wood. It looked a bit like the Head’s office at school, and it also wasn’t the tidiest of areas; there were walking shoes and wellies strewn around the floor. There was also an abundance of coats hung messily on the wall near the front door.

Two other doors sat on either side of me, possibly living rooms. I was just about to ask Connor about my room when a flustered woman appeared in the open doorway down the corridor to the front of us.

“Fantastic! You’re here,” the lady I assumed to be Anna shrieked, whilst bustling purposefully toward me. She was a large woman with a strong Yorkshire accent, dressed in shabby jeans and a flour-dusted sweater. I noted her bare feet and that her hair was falling from what you could only call a chaotic bun. She lookedexactlylike you’d imagine a woman who lived on a farm to look.

Connor grunted a reply and started opening one of the letters. I ignored him and stepped forward, only to be pulled into a bear of a hug. Her hair smelled of cooking oil.

“I imagine you’re Anna?” My statement was muffled against her neck as she squeezed my tired body and I felt her nod before she set me back with hands on my shoulders, her face assessing.

I put her around the sixties mark as she nodded. “Stunning child, absolutely beautiful,” she said with saucer-wide eyes.

Her gaze roamed over me from head to toe. “You lookexactlylike your pictures honey, such a pretty little thing. Isn’t she Connor?”

My eyes darted to Connor to find him watching us, his gaze hooded, giving nothing away, the letter in his hand suddenly forgotten. Our stares met and tangled.

His lips twisted. “If you say so,” he grunted.

His reply was bland which was typical and his face was now as unreadable as a book with the pages glued together. He was such a sod. My inner tantrum stomped her feet.

Anna’s eyes narrowed into slits which added a few more lines to her crow’s feet and her grin became much meatier.

“Ignore him sunshine, almost twenty-two and he’s already like a grumpy old man is Connor,” she began before she suggested, “Why don’t you take her case up to her room Con and I’ll give her the tour. Oh, and you need to call Andy about the new creep feeders you ordered.”

She bellowed this over her shoulder, my God the woman was loud. I pulled my eyes away, breaking the connection. Connor grumbled something under his breath as he threw the letter back on the table. I watched him from the corner of my eye as he prowled towards me, his stance screaming irritation. Did the guyeversmile? At least he appeared to be doing as he was told for a change. Ifleetingly wondered about his relationship with my dad. Was he a prick to my father too? I didn’t take too kindly to that thought and so I dashed it away. As far as I knew, they were on good terms and worked well together.

I side-stepped to allow him to grab my case and murmured a quick thank you as he set off up the stairs, taking them two at a time, the muscles in his shoulders flexing with the weight of my stuff.

“So, you two had a fallout again?” Anna put in gently, releasing me and turning to eye his retreating form; her ‘thoroughly in need of a pluck’ eyebrows sky high.

I nodded, “You could say that,” I replied whimsically.

She pursed her lips. “You’ll get used to him. He acts as hard as nails, but he has a softer side once you get to know him.”

I almost choked at that one but managed to recover myself. The thought of my stepbrother possessing anything soft was surely a joke. A warmth pooled between my legs and I allowed my mind to wander no further.

Anna wiped her hands down her jeans before saying, “You forget about Connor for now, and let’s get you settled. Would you like a shower before your dad gets in?” The woman offered. I almost jumped up and down and clapped my hands with glee.

“Yes please, that would be great.”

I re-hooked my rucksack over my shoulder as Anna gave me a brief tour of the layout downstairs. The kitchen was based at the back of the house and was rather messy from baking. The two rooms on either side turned out to be a florally decorated living room and the other was my father’s study. I breathed in the scent; you could identify an essence of Dad. It was decorated with oak wood flooring and mahogany panelling on the walls. There was an array of masculine-looking furniture with leather-bound books, shelved floor to ceiling. I spied Dad’s traditional work desk with the green leather surface sitting against the far wall and his worn Chesterfield. The room was large and full of natural light and for some reason, I preferred it to the softer more feminine room which surprised me. I was usually all for the girlie stuff. The patio doors also gave you a peek into the back garden where there was a variety of shrubs and flowers; a possible place for sunbathing, I mentally filed away.

Anna chatted about life on the farm and how she had been the live-in cook for the last two years since my father bought the place and got it back on its feet. Really? This was back on its feet. I would have hated to have visited when it was off its feet.

At least I’d been reassured that the place was at a ‘work in progress’ phase and Dad wasn’t broke, thank God. The timeline Rachel gave me was interesting as it confirmed that Dad must have bought the farm before he and my mother officially split up. This, in turn, was proof that hehadbeen seeing Rachel for longer than we thought. When mum had eventually found out about the ‘other woman’, he’d said it had only been for a matter of weeks. At least that is what I thought I’d heard during one of their rows.

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