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I read it again and again, wondering what Paul has done to elicit an accusation like this. I guess there’s always a troll under a bridge somewhere with an axe to grind. However, this is the only like-minded person I have found so far so I can’t dismiss it just like that. The comment was added three years ago. I can only assume the charity missed it and failed to delete it.
I study the user’s profile. Their name is clearly fake – it’s spelled Ann On – and the picture they’ve used is of a red poppy field emblazoned with ‘Lest We Forget’. The rest is set to private so it gives nothing away. I take another sip of wine before clicking the messenger symbol and think about what I want to write. I keep it simple.
Hello. I read your post on the Help for Homes Facebook page regarding volunteer Paul Michael. Can I ask what you meant by it? I’m worried for my mum. Thanks.
If this were a film, a reply would appear in seconds, but it doesn’t. I’m still holding out a little hope when, after two hours of silence, the laptop battery dies and I close the lid. I drain the rest of the bottle of wine, and as I make my way to my bedroom, I know that even if that Facebook poster doesn’t reply, at least I’m not going mad. I am not the only person who believes there is something about this man to be wary of.
CHAPTER 12
WALTER CLARK, NEIGHBOUR
‘What’s troubling you?’ I begin.
‘Nothing,’ Connie says, a little too breezily. You can’t pull the wool over this old codger’s eyes. I save the spreadsheet on my laptop and close the lid.
‘Is it Gwen? Has something happened?’
‘No, it’s nothing like that.’ She lets out a sigh as long as my sideboard.
‘In the cupboard above the stove is a box of lemon slices,’ I say. ‘Put the kettle on, then we’ll sit down and you can tell me what’s making you a mardy Mary.’
Even when her mum isn’t at her best, Connie always arrives with a smile on her face and ensures I’m okay before she lets Oscar off his lead, tops up his water bowl and leaves. The second stroke left me less mobile than I once was, my left side far weaker than my right, which is why she helps when she can. But today, her smile is thin and forced and I get the feeling she might like to talk about it. And to be honest, I’d like her to stay a little longer because I enjoy her company.
Ten minutes later and Connie returns with two mugs and a plate of cakes. I don’t tell her it’s the crockery I usually save for bestor I’ll sound like Hyacinth Bucket and her Royal Doulton with the hand-painted periwinkles.
‘I think Mum’s being taken advantage of by someone,’ she says carefully.
‘Who?’
‘There’s a man who’s been helping us tidy the garden and do some odd jobs.’
‘And . . .’
‘And I can’t put my finger on what it is about him, but there’s something I don’t trust.’
‘Are you talking about Paul?’
‘Yes. Do you know him?’
‘Once seen, not forgotten in a hurry,’ I reply. I use my hands to pretend to cool myself with an invisible fan. ‘He works for a charity, doesn’t he?’ She nods. ‘He’s been going house to house asking us oldies if there’s any work we need doing. Storm Michael almost ripped the satellite dish off my chimney pot, so he reattached it. And Samesh, two doors down, said Paul replaced a cracked pane of glass in his bathroom.’
‘Oh. What did you think of him?’ Connie asks.
‘I thought he was a lovely lad; he did my job straight away and didn’t want paying. He did some pointing work on a wall for George and Betty Harris too. Didn’t charge them either.’
She puts her half-eaten cake back on the plate like she’s lost her appetite.
‘Can I be honest with you, Walter? It feels like he is slowly edging his way into Mum’s and my life. I don’t really know the first thing about him, yet he’s in her house almost every single day and has been for weeks. This might sound ridiculous, but I’m sure he’s flirting with her. And she does the same back to him.’
‘He did the same with me. But I think that’s just his way. Nothing is ever going to come of it, is there?’
‘I suppose not.’
‘There’s no “suppose” about it. Trust me, when you get to mine and your mum’s age, you’ll relish a cheeky wink and a bit of chitchat with a hunky handyman. A little playful banter never did anyone any harm. And to be honest, I’m thinking of finding more stuff to break around the house just so I have an excuse to ask him back.’
‘But he keeps coming up with jobs that were never on our to-do list. And now I find him redecorating Mum’s house without asking me first.’
‘What’s upsetting you most, the flirting or the making decisions without consulting you?’
