‘Oh, Joan, no!’ I got out of my chair and went to crouch next to her, holding her hands and looking her right in the eyes so she could see that I meant it. ‘Sam doesn’t want a girlfriend and I don’t want a boyfriend; we both like living on our own. Apart from you and Nesbit, of course. It makes us a perfect match to be friends.’ I ignored my heart’s squeak of protest. ‘I would never have a man come and stay while you’re here, unless you know and trust him. I’m not going to be fooled by someone like Archer, I promise.’
‘So he gave you the chairs as a friend?’ Joan wasn’t convinced.
‘Yes. Can you remember when Nesbit stole the chicken? That was Sam’s house. He showed me some chairs he made that were super-comfy, and offered to make me some.’
‘In return for what?’
‘Um…’
‘A fantastic meal and some beers,’ Sam chipped in. ‘But really, I love making the chairs; I don’t need anything in return. Oh – and Ollie is inviting me to her party.’
‘Is he a carpenter?’ Joan asked, still ignoring Sam.
‘He’s a ranger.’
Joan’s eyes went round as circles as she flipped to face him. ‘A Ranger? Like Aragorn in The Lord of the Rings?’
Sam’s grin was impossible to resist. ‘Almost. A forest ranger. I fight things like pollution and overgrown paths and fires, not orcs or goblins.’
Joan pulled her hands free and folded her arms. ‘Okay. You can be his friend. No kissing, though!’
‘Understood. No kissing.’ Sam nodded gravely.
‘Definitely no kissing,’ I agreed.
‘So, if you’re a ranger, will you help me find my grandparents?’ Joan asked, once Pia had left a few minutes later.
Sam glanced at me, as if checking whether it was okay to follow this line of conversation. I gave a small nod.
‘Are they lost in the forest?’
‘No!’ Joan squealed, laughing. ‘I don’t know where they are. Mum tries to pretend they don’t exist. But now she’s ill, I think she might need them.’
Sam looked thoughtful. ‘That’s not really something a forest ranger could do, but in my job before that I was a lawyer and sometimes had to find people, so yes, I will help, if Ollie says it’s okay.’
‘It is okay, as long as we start another day. You’ve had an exhausting week, Joan, and it’s already well past dinner time. Let’s arrange another time to speak to Sam about it, and tomorrow we can get all the information you have so far ready for him.’
‘I can come back tomorrow,’ Sam offered.
‘Really?’ I asked, surprised. ‘You don’t have to. We can wait a few days.’
‘It’s fine, I’d like to.’
‘Yes please!’ Joan looked thrilled.
We arranged for Sam to come in between lunchtime and the hospital visit, and he left us to a late dinner and early night. Not that either of us slept much, I suspected, given how much we were anticipating tomorrow’s detective session. I only hoped that neither of us would end up broken-hearted.
23
Sunday lunchtime, I opened the door to find Megan, Sam’s sister-in-law, and a cool bag that she unzipped to release the most heavenly smells.
‘Sunday dinner. Wheat-free, as requested.’
‘Megan, this is fabulous!’ I unloaded foil tubs containing slices of roast beef, still warm and slightly pink in the middle, roast potatoes, Yorkshire puddings and three different vegetables, along with a pot of gravy.
‘Well, I figured you could probably do with something hearty and homemade. I know what it’s like when you’ve got to trail back and forth to hospital every day.’
I was torn between embarrassment and wanting to load it onto plates while it was still hot. She was right – this was exactly what I needed. I had to blink back tears as I thanked her.
Once Megan had left, I transferred one portion of everything onto a plate and then covered it in foil. I hadn’t asked for wheat-free meals for nothing. I suspected there would be more than enough food to spare, which there was, and I was going to put it to good use as bait, hopefully luring a grumpy old man out of his lair.
Today, I would bring dinner to him. My longer-term goal was him coming to dinner. I didn’t know anything about Ebenezer apart from that he was a brilliant gardener and handyman, but he’d almost implied that we could be friends last time we’d spoken, and I was like Nesbit with a dirty sock – once I’d grabbed hold of that idea, I wasn’t letting go without a fight.