Page 29 of Oz
Oz
I don’t see anything of Silas for the next few days. I’m not sure whether it’s him or me, but we seem to be assiduously avoiding each other. Whenever I’ve entered a room it’s to find that he’s just left it. It’s like he’s an anti-homing pigeon. I tell myself that I’m happy with this. I don’t get attached to many people. I’ve always thought of that as my superpower, because in my experience people invariably let you down. Far better to avoid nasty words and bitterness by just not being bothered.
Anyway, if I shag another boss I’m sure I’ll be qualifying for a spot onThe Jeremy Kyle Show. I try to imagine what the banner heading for my appearance would be, and I’ve just settled on ‘Can you believe what a fucking idiot this man is?’ when Milo coughs.
I start and look up. “What?”
“The fitters want to know where you want the counter and workspace and shelves?”
I shake my head. “Sorry, I was far away.” I step over to the waiting men and point out where I want everything situated. As they unpack the boxes I look around at what will be the gift shop. The small room near the tea rooms was once an office for the old stable master. Now, freshly plastered and decorated and with the sun streaming through the new long windows and onto the flagstones, it looks lovely.
It also looks very empty. I pull my diary out and leaf through the pages looking for the date of the county show. “When is–?”
“Next Friday,” Milo replies, watching the men work.
I stare at him. “How do you know what I was going to say?”
He smiles. It’s a full smile, unlike the nervy ones he used to offer. “I’m starting to know your mind.” He gives a mock shudder. “Down there be monsters.”
I shake my head, trying not to laugh. “You’re too sassy, that’s your problem.” I turn to him and lean against the wall. “You sure this is the right way to go?”
He nods confidently. “The house is a local landmark. Lord Ashworth needs to showcase local products and this county fair is the best around for local craftsmen.”
“I suppose it’ll make him popular with the locals,” I muse.
He looks astonished. “He couldn’t get any more popular. He’s always the first one to put his hand in his pocket to help someone. And it’s not just money. He’s always the first to help. When Mr Brown’s tree fell on his farmhouse, Lord Ashworth turned up in the middle of the storm to help and then he put him and his wife up in this house until the repairs were done. When Bob Richardson, one of the tenant farmers, broke his leg, Lord Ashworth drove him to physiotherapy every week for months.”
“That sounds like him,” I muse, and I don’t need Milo’s sudden stillness to know that I sounded too fond.Motherfucker.“I mean, good on him. He seems like a good bloke,” I say heartily, feeling a flush rise on my cheeks while Milo looks at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“Who’s a good bloke?”
The deep voice comes from behind me and Silas tries to repress a smile as Milo and I jump like little old ladies.
“Lord Ashworth,” Milo stammers, but I put my hands on my hips. My heart is hammering, not just at the shock, but at seeing him up close. I drink in his appearance in faded jeans, navy Vans, and a white polo shirt, like he’s a bottle of cold beer on a hot day.
“What are you doing sneaking up on people?” I demand. “I could have a weak constitution.”
He bites his lips, his eyes brimming with humour. “That makes you sound like an extra fromWuthering Heights.Still, as long as you’re not wandering the moors in a nightie I think we’ll be safe.”
I shake my head. “That’s my Saturday night plans ruined, then. Feel bad, Silas. Feelreallybad.”
He laughs loudly, then looks at Milo who is standing with his mouth slightly open. Silas coughs and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “So … what’s happening here?”
We both stare at him. “Erm, the workmen are fitting the counter and shelves,” I say, looking round at the men who are being very obvious in what they’re doing.
I watch in fascination as colour floods over his high cheekbones.I don’t find this adorable,I say to myself.I definitely do not find this adorable.
I give in to my softer, more stupid inclinations and give him an out. “Did you need us, Lord–” I stutter slightly, and equilibrium regained, he smirks at me.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I probably should be able to call you by your title, but I just can’t.”
Milo looks both horrified and titillated and I shoot him a scowl.
Silas smiles. “Are there too many syllables, Oz?”
“How many are in fuck off?” I ask pertly, and he laughs. I sigh loudly. “Have you come to oversee the work?”
