CHAPTER 29
I drove up the long driveway to the house. I parked my car and looked up at the cat key ring that was now swinging from my rear-view mirror. I’d found it in the back of the second-hand shop, along with some soft cat toys which I’d bought and placed on my dashboard. The house seemed even bigger in real life and looked like it had been here for hundreds of years; the way the creepers had grown over it, encasing it in their green fingers, and the way the trees that lined the driveway reached all the way up to the sky, told me that this house had been part of this land forever.
Looking at the place, I had the feeling of stepping back in time. Round archways led up on to a gorgeous wrap-around veranda, with intricate patterned tiles. Upstairs was a balcony, and I could see chandeliers hanging from the ceiling of the room beyond. Bay windows, terracotta-colored chimneys and white shutters completed the look. I half-expected a butler to come running out to meet me with a cup of tea and a warm towel for my face. But no one of the sort came out; instead, I was greeted by a young, happy-looking woman, who came bounding down the stairs, her long, purple skirt billowing behind her. She looked like an artist, and this was confirmed when I saw a long, red paintbrush pushed through the messy bun on top of her head. She stopped in front of me and smiled.
“Hi! Are you Sam?” she asked.
I cringed at the sound of that name coming from her lips. My name was Pebecca Samantha Thorne, but I’d lied about my name in case Mike had some way of scanning all the bookings in the town. Or was that just something they could do on TV?
“Yes,” I said, extending my hand. We shook.
“I’m Ashley. But call me Ash—everyone does. I see you’re here for the Persian parade.” She pointed at the cat hanging from my rear-view mirror.
“Yes. Yes, I am,” I said, lying through my lying teeth. If teeth grew every time you told a lie, like Pinocchio’s nose, I would have fangs by the end of this and would be left with an inability to close my mouth ever again. Front teeth so long that they dragged on the ground as I walked.
She looked around. “Where’s your cat?”
“Oh! Oh, yes.” I giggled. I went to the car and grabbed the cat cage I’d bought from the charity store. I’d draped a towel over it, hoping no one would ask to see her. I really had thought of everything. Maybe Iwouldmake a good criminal, after all. Well, if my career as an author didn’t pan out, I’d be sure to check out all jobs requiring criminal maneuverings, although I seriously doubted those were advertised on Craigslist.
“Oh, let’s see!” she said, stepping towards my invisible cat.
“NO!” I said quickly. “She’s resting. Big, big day tomorrow.”
Ash nodded, as if she understood; I was pretty sure she didn’t, but I gave her a big smile anyway. I grabbed my suitcase and started walking towards the house.
“Don’t you need a cat box?” she called after me.
“Uhhhh.”Shit.“I’ve trained her to use the toilet,” I blurted out.
“Really?” She looked surprised. I was surprised.
“She even flushes it herself with her little paws. She’s very clever.”
“That’s amazing. I didn’t know they could do that,” she said.
I should have effing left it there!But I didn’t. “Yeah, it’s actually incredible what cats can do with their paws, when given the right training.” Why?! Why had I just said that?Whhhyyy?
Ash stopped walking. She looked at me, genuinely interested. “What else can they do?”
Yes, Becca . . . What else can cats do with their paws when trained correctly?“They can paint!” I blurted out.
Her face lit up at that; she looked genuinely excited by this prospect and maybe that’s why I stupidly decided to weave my story even more.
“Mine is quite the artist, actually,” I said. “A real little Pi-cat-so!”
Ash laughed at my stupid joke and I laughed back. It was a nervous laugh, anI-can’t-believe-you-found-that-funnylaugh.
“Well, I would be honored if Picatso would come and paint with me sometime,” she added.
I nodded. What was I doing? “I’m sure she’d love to,” I said, and started walking again. I needed to keep my feet moving so they didn’t keep landing up in my mouth. We climbed the steps that led up to the magnificent veranda.
“This is the guest section of the house,” Ash started saying. “You have your own entrance and driveway, and, back there—” she pointed to the other side of the house—“that is where I live. But, don’t worry, we have our own entrance and parking, too, so you won’t be disturbed.”
“Oh, great—that’s good to know.” This was exactly what I needed to get my book done.
“And you’re the only person staying inside the house; the three guest cottages are full, but they also have their own entrance and are situated on the other side of the garden, so you shouldn’t bump into them, either.”
“Great!” I said happily. This place was perfect.
