Meet Me at Wisteria Cottage. Teresa Morgan F.
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Maddison Hart threw her bag on the passenger seat, turned the key in the ignition and, checking the pavement was clear, reversed off the driveway. A bad memory reminded her to glance in her wing mirror just in time. She was about to hit her neighbour’s pickup truck on the opposite side of the road – again. She slammed the brakes and cursed. She’d only just had her damn brake light fixed.
‘Bloody idiot,’ she said, screwing up her face.
Why did he park it there, on the road, and not on his driveway? It was big enough!
He always seemed to be parked there when she wanted to reverse off her drive, too! Damn the man.
Her neighbour, wearing only a pair of knee-length khaki shorts, and busy putting some tools into the back of the black pickup, smirked.
Oh, crap, he’d heard her too, with her window partially down. Sod it, he’d been living here three months, and now it was getting annoying. She pressed the button, and lowered her window further. She would not be intimidated by his bare chest and muscles.
‘Mr …’ she glanced at the stickers reading ‘Tudor Landscapes’ along the truck’s side, ‘Mr Tudor,’ she said more assertively, ‘could you not park your truck right there?’
‘It’s Harry.’
‘Okay, Harry,’ she sniped, ‘could you please not park your truck right there.’ Everything about him, his whole demeanour, infuriated Maddy.
‘Why?’
‘I nearly hit it – again!’
‘What do you mean again?’ He glanced at the truck, rubbing his hand along the paintwork.
‘I said nearly.’ She lied. Last time she had clonked it, but it had done more damage to her car than his.
‘It’s easy, look in your mirrors as you reverse off your drive, lady.’
Maddy took a deep breath, her teeth clamped together and she dramatically swished her strawberry blonde hair off her shoulders before choosing her next words. ‘It’s awkward whether I look in my mirrors or not.’
‘Drive slower then.’
Maddy refrained from growling with frustration, instead she gripped the steering wheel tighter. The man was obviously too arrogant to listen. ‘It doesn’t matter how fast I go. I’m used to reversing off my drive, hassle free. The people who lived in the house before you never parked on the road. They used their driveway.’
‘Then reverse onto your drive, so you can see what you’re doing when you leave, if it’s so difficult.’
‘It’s not easy to reverse onto my drive either, with your monstrosity of a truck in the road.’ The road was too narrow, as it only led to a handful of houses.
‘Maybe you should own a smaller car if you can’t handle it.’
Deep breath, Maddy. One, two, three … She did not like his smug expression, and wished he wasn’t six feet tall and built like a marine, standing there baring his tanned torso, because she wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. Bastard. She hated smug bastards.
‘Are you implying I can’t drive?’ Her eyes narrowed. She drove an estate car so that her paintings fitted in the back. A smaller vehicle was not suitable – she’d tried it. However much she’d loved her Mini Cooper S in racing green, it had not been practical.
‘I can’t see why it’s so hard, but I’ll tell you what, I’ll stop leaving my truck here when you stop your damn cat from crapping in my front garden.’
‘My cat has a litter tray.’
‘Well, the thing isn’t using it!’ He slammed the remainder of the tools he held into the flatbed, and headed back up to his garage, cursing about cats.
How had this conversation gone from cars to cats? Idiot.
‘You’re such an arsehole!’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment!’ he called over his back, without turning round.
Maddy swore again, and forced the car into gear, crunching it with anger. ‘There is more than one cat in this close, you know!’ she shouted and sped off. Well, tried to. Her wheels spun with her quick release of the clutch and a bit too much throttle. And then her front tyre hit the kerb with the lack of turning space, making a rubber-scraping-concrete sound, angering Maddy further.
She loved her cat. Sookie was very affectionate, and Maddy liked how her little companion purred and greeted her when she got home. Her cat’s love was the only sort she got lately.
And it was enough. All she needed.
Harry was obnoxious and fancied himself. It seemed to her there wasn’t an affectionate bone in his body. If there was, it was probably buried under his bulk of muscle. Too cocksure, the way he flaunted himself – shirtless or with too tight a T-shirt. She hated men like that.
Bastard.
Look what the man did to her. She hadn’t stopped cursing since leaving her house. She felt red with rage, and probably looked it too. She feared it wouldn’t be the last time she’d have heated words with Harry.
Her thoughts whirred, mainly about the old man from across the road dying a few months after she’d moved in, and his elderly wife being put in a home by their children, and selling up. The house had been empty for nearly six months. She’d got into the habit of not really having to concentrate while manoeuvring her car off her own driveway. The old couple opposite had owned a vehicle but it had remained in the garage, the man being too ill to drive it.
She’d liked them as neighbours.
Now she had to put up with Harry and his monstrosity.
***
Harry slammed down his garage door. What was it about that woman?
Returning to his truck, he checked it over carefully, sure his neighbour, in her complete incompetence, had probably hit it before. He’d seen the lie in her eyes, the way she’d been unable to look at him, and more obviously, avoiding glancing at his chrome bumper.
He couldn’t see any marks, so maybe her car had come off worse. Well, serve her right. He paid his road tax, his pickup had as much right to be on this street as did her Ford estate.
A few deep breaths and he got into the cab of the truck. He was quoting for a new landscaping job today, and he didn’t want to be late. It was a big contract in Tinners Bay, an ex-holiday home in disrepair and the garden in similar state. With rain due later this afternoon the sooner he got started the better, but that woman had him so rattled he wondered if he needed to go back to the docs to check his meds.
Actually, let’s face it, he hadn’t got angry, more like sarcastic. Maybe his meds were working. Although frustrated, he felt positive – his whole world wasn’t closing in on him anymore. Even the nightmares had lessened. Karin played less on his mind. He’d get to work and feel better. Gardening was his new vice. You couldn’t stress about gardening really, unless you had a lawn to cut and rain was imminent, and even then it wasn’t a matter of life or death.
Unlike his old job.
To turn the truck, he reversed up his drive. As he was about to pull out, he noticed his neighbour’s front lawn needed cutting, and the bushes pruning … Even her blasted garden infuriates me. And there sat her black cat in the front window. Ha! His neighbour was probably a witch. Did she have green eyes? She certainly had the red hair … well, strawberry blonde his mother would call it. He narrowed his eyes at the cat. The thing was probably twiddling a whisker like some Doctor Evil, waiting for him to leave, so it could crap all over his front garden.
Being