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‘I’m not sure you could afford my rates.’
‘Why, what’s Michael paying you?’
I flush slightly.
‘I thought so. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.’
‘What secret?’
‘Look. If word gets round the site that you’re hanging around with Michael on the weekend, there’s going to be gossip, that’s all I’m saying.’
‘If anything like that happens, I’ll know exactly where it came from, and we’ll be having a chat,’ I tell him, firmly. ‘I’m just helping out a friend in my spare time. Nothing more to it than that.’
Thankfully, before John can go any further down this particular rabbit hole, we’re interrupted by his wife.
‘Ted, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?’ she asks.
Ted?
‘Carol, this is my wife Roberta. Roberta, this is Carol, who project manages the site.’ I notice that John is suddenly looking a bit uncomfortable.
‘Oh, this is the woman you’ve been telling me about?’ Roberta asks him, before turning to me. ‘Ted’s a big admirer of yours. He’s always telling me about clever ways you’ve moved things around to keep the build on track.’
John is now full-on fidgeting, but I can’t work out whether that’s because she’s revealed much more about what he really thinks than he’d ever let on to me, or whether it’s the Ted thing. I have to find out about that.
‘Has he also told you that my real name is Ella?’ I ask.
‘He’s hopeless,’ she agrees. ‘I don’t know a single person he actually calls by their real name, except me.’
‘But you don’t call him John?’
‘No. He’s always been my big teddy bear, haven’t you, love?’
To my delight, John turns absolutely crimson and invents a reason for them to hurry away. I don’t think he’ll be telling anyone on site that he saw me, somehow. I’m still giggling about it when I finish the door.
* * *
‘I thought we’d do something different tomorrow, if you’re not busy,’ Noah tells me as we’re packing up for the day. I haven’t mentioned the Ted thing to him; I’m keeping that as private ammunition for now.
‘I don’t exactly have a packed social calendar down here, as you know. After I’ve exchanged a couple of sentences with Betty next door about the foxes getting into her bins again, I think I’ll be pretty much free. What did you have in mind?’
‘I thought I’d take you on a bit of a tour of Kent. Have you actually been outside Ashford since you arrived?’
‘I haven’t really had any reason to go anywhere else.’
‘And what sort of things do you like? Stately homes, castles, gardens?’
‘All of them. I probably like gardens most, though.’
‘Noted. I’ll collect you from the caravan of shit at nine sharp.’
I can’t help smiling to myself as I drive home. Noah hasn’t been anywhere near the caravan park since the weekend I arrived, so he’s in for a surprise. His house isn’t the only project I’ve been working on in my spare time. Al and Doreen, my neighbours on the other side from Betty, are keen gardeners and were more than happy to lend me some tools to attack the patch of scrubland outside the mobile home. I’ve also borrowed ladders (now that I can climb them) and given the whole of the exterior a good wash so, although it’s never going to be the Ritz, it’s pretty much unrecognisable as the same place I moved into when I arrived.
‘Bloody hell!’ he exclaims when he shows up the next morning. ‘Either you’re superwoman, or you’ve been massively bored. I thought I’d come to the wrong place for a moment. I had to double-check.’
‘All my own work,’ I tell him proudly, gesturing at the neat patch of grass and flowerbeds that have replaced the scrubland.
‘And the caravan?’
