If he was Elise’s nephew, then he was probably an all right bloke. She’d told Betty all about her sister’s children, and he didn’t remember anything bad ever coming up. Maybe he’d pop round to clear the air, see for himself.
But that could wait for tomorrow.
He wasn’t ready to play the welcoming neighbour quite yet, and besides, he had cookies to eat.
SATURDAY MORNINGS spent at the local animal shelter were the highlight of Oliver’s week. He’d been helping out there for years. After he got a full-time job, he’d had to scale back his hours to only a couple per week, but he still liked to go when he could.
It also meant his family and friends had more animals then they’d ever expected.
His mum had a dog and two cats, Rob had two cats, and his best friend had a cat and a rabbit. They’d now banned him from mentioning any of the rescue animals that came into the shelter.
The worst thing was, because he’d rented a room in a shared house before moving in with Betty, he hadn’t been able to have any animals of his own. And that had been torture. There were so many he would have loved to take home.
But Betty had no such problem, and as he walked through the door, he met a couple in the hallway. Bending down to stroke the two black-and-white cats fussing round his ankles, he shouted out a greeting to her.
“I’m in here,” she called back from the kitchen.
Oliver kicked off his shoes and wandered through to find her sat in front of the patio doors, cat on her lap, cup of tea on the table next to her. “All right?”
“Yes, dear. I’m just having five minutes before I make some lunch.”
He took the seat next to her and glanced at the crossword she was doing. Only three of the clues remained, and he skimmed the questions, not expecting to be able to answer any of them.The Telegraphcrossword was beyond him most days. “Oh, twenty-four across israinbow.”
Betty tapped her pen against the paper while she read the clue again for herself, then made a small noise of surprise. “So it is. Thank you, I’ve been stuck on that one for ages.”
“My pleasure.” Apart from the two cats that had followed him in and the one on Betty’s knee, the kitchen was surprisingly empty. “Where are the others?”
“Outside, taking advantage of the sunshine.” She pointed to the end of the garden where two prone feline forms were stretched out on the patio slabs.
Betty had five cats of her own, and she fostered when needed.
She waved a hand towards the living room. “Be careful when you go through there. Those two”—she pointed at the black-and-white ones—“have taken to scratching at Monty’s door, so I’m trying to keep them away from it. I don’t want to cause him any more stress, bless him.”
“How was he this morning?”
“He came round a bit when I took his food in. Still a bit skittish at first though.”
Betty went back to studying her crossword and Oliver leant back in his chair, debating what to do next. It was a beautiful winter’s day. Seemed wrong to be spending it inside. “I think I’m going to go outside for a bit. Might sort out that corner of the garden.” He pointed out the window to where the fence separated Betty’s garden from Elise’s.Ed’s. He corrected himself. “Fancy joining me?”
Betty glanced down at the purring ball of fur in her lap and shook her head with a smile. “Maybe in a bit.”
“Okay.” Oliver patted her hand as he stood. “Can I get you anything before I go out?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you, love.”
BETTY’S GARDEN was a decent size and overlooked farmers’ fields as well as part of the local church graveyard. Surprisingly, that wasn’t as macabre as it sounded, but the dull clang of the church bell was far more eerie in Oliver’s opinion. The cul-de-sac Betty lived on had a lot of people from her generation, and she often joked that was so they didn’t have far to go when they died.
As he walked towards the still-sleeping cats on the patio, he heard muffled cursing coming from Ed’s garden.
“Ow! Shit.” Rustling noises, followed by what sounded like material tearing. “Fucking bastard thorns.”
Oliver winced in sympathy. He’d yet to make his mind up about Ed. Their first meeting probably wasn’t a good basis for judgement. For either of them. And he could imagine the state of next door’s garden if no one had been tending it since Elise died. The thorn bush Ed was likely tackling had strayed over the top of the fence.
The temptation to drag one of the patio chairs closer and peek over the fence was hard to ignore, but Oliver doubted Ed would appreciate an audience. Especially not Oliver. Instead he walked over to fuss Betty’s cats. At least they’d appreciate the attention.
No sooner had he sat down than Ed appeared over the top of the fence, shears in hand. He started at seeing Oliver there—“Oh.”—clearly not expecting anyone to be outside.
Oliver took pity on him. “Brambles getting the better of you?” He nodded at the torn sleeve of Ed’s T-shirt.
