The House of Birds and Butterflies. Cressida McLaughlin

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СКАЧАТЬ peered closer, and spotted the faintest, almost non-existent white line.

      ‘What is it?’ she asked, her mind whirring, trying to get ahead of the game.

      ‘It’s a scratch,’ he said. ‘Caused by the pheasants that come stalking through here constantly, hooting like roosters.’

      Abby closed her eyes, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she started to stiffen up. ‘You’re complaining about the wildlife now?’ she asked quietly. ‘Your cottage is in the countryside. Even if it wasn’t on a nature reserve, you’re going to get pheasants, deer, birds crapping on your precious Chelsea tractor.’

      ‘What?’ His voice was sharp. He looked more shocked than angry, as if he wasn’t used to people answering back to him.

      ‘I can’t do anything about the pheasants,’ she said, more gently. ‘And this scratch – I can barely see it, you need a magnifying glass. I honestly don’t know what you want me to say. I can’t close your cottage and garden off from the rest of the world, wrap it up in bubble wrap.’

      Jack stood quickly, and Abby wondered how outraged he’d be if she used his shiny car to hoist herself up, envious of the fact that his knees worked better than hers. Then she looked up and found he was holding his hand out to her. She took it, and he pulled her to standing, the momentum closing the gap between them.

      The raindrops were beading on his coat like pearls, and his hair was slowly losing its volume, flattening against his forehead.

      ‘I just need to write,’ he said. ‘How am I supposed to do that with all these distractions?’

      Abby shook her head. ‘Can’t you … be inspired by them, instead? It’s an idyllic setting, the roses in the garden, the hanging basket, the birds singing, even the pheasants. There’s Swallowtail House a short walk in that direction, beautiful and mysterious. And in the spring you’ll have bees again, butterflies – can’t you use all that in your writing? And surely overhearing conversations is helpful. Isn’t people-watching a writer’s favourite pastime – after writing, obviously?’

      Jack put his hands on his hips. ‘My writing doesn’t contain many butterflies. It’s usually quite dark.’

      ‘Oh yes, of course. But … weren’t there butterflies – or moths, at least, in The Silence of the Lambs?’ She could picture the DVD cover now, a girl’s face with a moth covering the mouth. It was a death’s-head hawkmoth, though she hadn’t known that when she’d first watched it.

      ‘What do you mean “of course”?’ Jack asked.

      Abby frowned, trying to put herself back in the conversation. ‘I – uh.’ Her teeth chattered violently, and Jack pulled her by her sleeve until they were huddled under the half-shelter of the porch. She could smell the heather in the hanging basket, its scent enhanced by the rain, even though it was close to the end of flowering.

      ‘You said “of course” when I told you my writing was dark. Why did you say that?’

      ‘Because I … oh.’ It was common knowledge who was living next to the reserve, but news of the interest it had aroused obviously hadn’t reached the man himself yet, probably because of his self-imposed seclusion.

      ‘So, you know who I am, then? Who else?’

      ‘I didn’t know to begin with,’ Abby said. ‘I didn’t recognize you. But Rosa, who works in the reserve shop, was just … we were wondering, when you told me you were a writer, and I … she came by, and said that—’

      ‘Who else knows?’ Jack prompted.

      Abby looked at her sodden walking boots. ‘Pretty much everyone who works on the reserve, and in the village too, I would have thought.’

      ‘Fuck.’ It wasn’t directed at her. Jack was staring over her shoulder, his jaw clenched, the muscles so tight Abby thought they might lock together.

      ‘It’s a normal village mentality,’ she said, shrugging. ‘Gossip spreads like wildfire, every arrival and departure is noticed, and especially into a cottage that’s been deserted for years. If you didn’t want to be a—’

      ‘A what? A talking point? A figure of fun?’ He looked at her now, his eyes blazing. ‘So, I should have figured out there’d be all this wildlife, I should have known I’d be assailed by bloody twitchers, or whatever you call them, and that I wouldn’t be left alone from the moment I arrived? Well, I’m sorry I’m not psychic. My agent said it was ideal, that it would give me the space I needed. That’s all I want – some peace and quiet to write my book.’ He ran a hand through his damp hair, pushing it off his forehead and spraying Abby’s face in the process.

      She would have been annoyed, except she was already too angered by what he’d said.

      ‘Hey. You were the one who came to me, complaining about the reserve. If you hadn’t, none of us would have knocked on this door, probably ever. You would have been left alone to moulder slowly away, moaning to the furniture about who was disturbing your precious writing time.’

      ‘Technically, I left the note for the reserve in general, not you specifically.’

      ‘Don’t be so smart! Why not talk to Penelope? She’s your landlady. Shouldn’t any complaints have gone to her? And anyone with any common sense would have realized a country cottage would come with wildlife. We can’t just turn it off, can we? Flick a switch, goodbye butterflies and deer and robins. It’s called Peacock Cottage – didn’t that give you a clue?’ Abby stepped out from under the shelter of the porch. The rain was heavier now, streaming into her eyes.

      Jack folded his arms. ‘So first you’re berating me for being too smart, then you’re implying I have no common sense? Come back in, you’ll get drenched.’

      ‘I’m already drenched! I have been since ten o’clock this morning, and if it hadn’t been for you and your minuscule scratch on your glossy, squashed-frog car, then I would have been dry ages ago. I couldn’t be any wetter, and you didn’t even invite me inside, just under the crappy little porch, so it’s not like you’re actually bothered!’

      ‘Squashed-frog car?’ Jack was struggling with a smile. It made her even madder.

      ‘I don’t have time for this! I have to get back and start working on my next event, which I will make absolutely sure doesn’t come anywhere near your precious blue front door.’ She whipped round, skidding on the slick paving slabs, and stormed up the path. She gasped when he grabbed her arm, swallowing another mouthful of rainwater in the process.

      ‘Come inside for a moment,’ he said. ‘Come and dry off.’

      ‘I need to get back to work.’ She twisted round, and his eyes held hers. They were icy blue, cold, somehow, and yet so captivating. The dimple made him look like he was smirking.

      ‘I need to go,’ she said again. ‘I’m sorry we know who you are, but none of my friends would use it to their advantage. They’re just intrigued. It’s not like they’d call the press or anything.’

      He nodded. ‘And the wildlife?’

      Abby laughed. ‘I’m not apologizing for that. It comes with the territory. Why don’t you come on one of my walks, see if you СКАЧАТЬ