“Hello there! Lovely afternoon, eh?”
I nearly jump out of my skin. Whipping around, I see a cheerful old man in a flat cap strolling by, smile wide and friendly.
“Oh! Um...” My eyes dart to the bag dangling from my fingers. “... yes. Lovely day.”
He tips his cap and continues on, whistling, while I stand frozen, clutching a bag of dog poop and wondering how, exactly, my life came to this.
By evening, the granny flat is unrecognisable. Even the musty smell is gone, replaced by the warm, garlicky scent of the chicken stir-fry sizzling on the ancient stovetop. Now, sitting on the windowsill and lording it over the view like he owns the place, is a cheerful little potted plant I picked up from a local store. I’ve already christened him Gerald.
I’m stirring the stir-fry when there’s a knock at the door. Wiping my hands on a dish towel, I open it to find Lachlan standing outside, holding a sheet of neatly typed paper.
“Oh! Hi.” I take a step back. “Um, come on in. I can put the kettle on. I’ve been shopping—got teabags! How British of me, right?”
He shakes his head, staying firmly planted on the threshold. “No, I won’t stay. Just wanted to have a quick chat.” His gaze slips over my shoulder, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Oh, wow. You’ve done a good job with the place.” His gaze lands on Gerald. “And you got a plant.”
“That’s Gerald,” I explain. “He seemed lonely at the store.”
I thought Lachlan might think it was cute I named the plant. Should’ve known better. He looks at me like I’ve grown another head. “Oh. Right. Anyway... how did the walk with Gus go at lunch?”
Straight onto business. Typical.
“Great! No problems at all,” I say breezily, while my shoulder twinges at the memory of being dragged down that hill. For half a second, I consider telling Lachlan his dog is basically nuts, but I catch myself. Not even started my first proper day on the job yet. Probably best not to complain about his beloved pet.
“Good. Right.” He holds out the paper. “I wanted to give you this. It’s a routine for Finn. It’s fairly fixed—he likes it that way.”
I take the sheet and scan it. My eyes widen as I read aloud: “Eight: breakfast. Two slices of toast, cut diagonally, with jam. Strawberry, not raspberry. Eight fifteen: brush teeth for exactly two minutes.” I look up at him. “Exactlytwo minutes?”
“He has a timer,” Lachlan says matter-of-factly.
Right, because what kid doesn’t have a toothbrush timer?
I keep reading. “Nine: outdoor play, weather permitting. If raining, indoor activities: Lego or books. No screens before eleven.”
Is this guytryingto model himself on Captain von Trapp?
“It’s just to help you get started,” Lachlan says, though his demeanour suggests this routine is about as flexible as reinforced concrete. “Finn thrives on structure.”
“Of course.” I put the paper down on the table. “Thank you. This is very... thorough.”
“My phone number is there too, in case you need it. Anyway, I’ll leave you in peace.” He turns to go, then stops. “Oh, actually, one last thing. My neighbour, Flora, might pop over tomorrow, just to check how you’re getting on.”
Perfect. An inspection. On my first day.
“That’s lovely,” I say. “I look forward to meeting her.”
“Right. Well, I’ll see you in the morning, then. Night.”
And with that, he’s gone, striding back toward the main house.
I close the door then take another look at the routine sheet. I wonder if Lachlan gave Flora a copy too. Maybe she’ll show up tomorrow with a clipboard and a red pen. God forbid I give Finn his toast in rectangles.
“Oh, Gerald,” I say, glancing over at my potted plant. “What have I got myself into?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
BLAIR
I leave the granny flat, nerves buzzing despite the sunshine. Through the kitchen window of the main house I catch a glimpse of Lachlan moving around in his ferry captain uniform. Once again those crisp white epaulettes do inconvenient things to my pulse, but I shove the feeling aside.
