warm breeze. Despite the emptiness of the place, sitting framed by the porch she had a peculiar sensation of being observed. She scanned the fly-screened windows of the houses around her, but they remained inscrutable. The gauze masked whatever was behind it. It was a peeping Tom’s paradise.
She became aware of the growl of a distant engine. It was so far away, and the road so empty, she didn’t know what direction it was coming from.
The vehicle finally rumbled into view and Lara saw it was a UPS van. It pulled up in front of her, and a tall, brown-uniformed man leaped out of the driver’s seat. He stretched his legs, looked up at the house and whistled to himself, shaking his head.
He disappeared inside the back of the van and a few moments later emerged with a package about the size of four bricks. Slamming the doors shut, he bounded up the steps to the front porch. Lara stood up and the man jumped.
‘Jeez, lady. I didn’t see you there in the shadows.’
‘Sorry,’ Lara said.
‘Trout Island Theatre Co?’
‘Um, yes.’
‘Sign here, please.’ He jabbed an electronic gizmo under her nose, his hand grazing hers as she took it from him.
When she handed it back she saw he was craning his head around her, trying to catch a glimpse into the house.
‘I could open the fly screen so you get a better look,’ Lara said.
‘Sorry, ma’am. It’s just—’
‘Yes?’
‘Is this—’ the delivery guy blushed – not a good look in his sweat-soaked brown uniform. ‘Is this the Larssen place?’ He wrinkled his nose as he said the name.
‘Larssen? I have no idea. We’ve just moved in.’
‘Oh. OK, then. Me and my big mouth. Gotta split. You have a nice day, now.’
He handed her the package and turned to go, hurrying down the steps and across the front lawn. Like the supermarket security guard, he had something of Olly about him. Perhaps it was a generic American look – tall and gangly with a slightly swaggering walk. Before he got into his van he turned, took one last glance at the house, and grimaced.
Lara watched the vehicle disappear into the distance. Strange, she thought. Larssen place?
The parcel was addressed to James, but she was pretty sure it was the ‘rowter’, so she took it indoors and ripped it open anyway.
She was annoyed to find the packaging had been opened; they had sent one that someone had used and returned or something. But, after half an hour of fiddling around, she managed to get online and had a fruitful session catching up on emails and Facebook, connecting with work and friends back home in a world that seemed, even after only two days, another lifetime away.
Eight
‘SO YOU’VE HAD A BIT OF A GANDER, THEN?’ MARCUS SAID, HELPING himself to another plate of pasta. Lunch was early, because everyone gathering downstairs to pick at the Reese’s Puffs like scavenging animals had prompted Lara to prepare some proper food.
‘It’s so dead here,’ Olly said.
‘There’ll be loads going on. You’ve just got to hunt it out,’ Marcus said, chewing. Lara wished he wouldn’t eat so noisily, but he always maintained that table manners were for the bourgeoisie.
‘You reckon?’ Olly picked up his plate and licked it, something Lara had also given up complaining about.
‘And once you get to know the actors and theatre people, well, that’ll be fun.’
‘There’s James and Betty’s party tonight for starters,’ Lara said.
‘What party?’ They all turned to look at her.
She slapped her forehead. ‘I completely forgot to tell you, didn’t I? It’s tonight at seven thirty. After the show. “Meet the guys”, James said.’
‘Do we have to go?’ Olly said.
‘Of course you have to go,’ Marcus said. ‘You were complaining how there’s nothing to do, and now you don’t want to go to a party.’
‘Chill pill.’
‘I hate it when you say that.’ Marcus glared at his sullen son.
‘That’s why he says it, Father,’ Bella said.
‘Where is it?’
She became aware of the growl of a distant engine. It was so far away, and the road so empty, she didn’t know what direction it was coming from.
The vehicle finally rumbled into view and Lara saw it was a UPS van. It pulled up in front of her, and a tall, brown-uniformed man leaped out of the driver’s seat. He stretched his legs, looked up at the house and whistled to himself, shaking his head.
He disappeared inside the back of the van and a few moments later emerged with a package about the size of four bricks. Slamming the doors shut, he bounded up the steps to the front porch. Lara stood up and the man jumped.
‘Jeez, lady. I didn’t see you there in the shadows.’
‘Sorry,’ Lara said.
‘Trout Island Theatre Co?’
‘Um, yes.’
‘Sign here, please.’ He jabbed an electronic gizmo under her nose, his hand grazing hers as she took it from him.
When she handed it back she saw he was craning his head around her, trying to catch a glimpse into the house.
‘I could open the fly screen so you get a better look,’ Lara said.
‘Sorry, ma’am. It’s just—’
‘Yes?’
‘Is this—’ the delivery guy blushed – not a good look in his sweat-soaked brown uniform. ‘Is this the Larssen place?’ He wrinkled his nose as he said the name.
‘Larssen? I have no idea. We’ve just moved in.’
‘Oh. OK, then. Me and my big mouth. Gotta split. You have a nice day, now.’
He handed her the package and turned to go, hurrying down the steps and across the front lawn. Like the supermarket security guard, he had something of Olly about him. Perhaps it was a generic American look – tall and gangly with a slightly swaggering walk. Before he got into his van he turned, took one last glance at the house, and grimaced.
Lara watched the vehicle disappear into the distance. Strange, she thought. Larssen place?
The parcel was addressed to James, but she was pretty sure it was the ‘rowter’, so she took it indoors and ripped it open anyway.
She was annoyed to find the packaging had been opened; they had sent one that someone had used and returned or something. But, after half an hour of fiddling around, she managed to get online and had a fruitful session catching up on emails and Facebook, connecting with work and friends back home in a world that seemed, even after only two days, another lifetime away.
Eight
‘SO YOU’VE HAD A BIT OF A GANDER, THEN?’ MARCUS SAID, HELPING himself to another plate of pasta. Lunch was early, because everyone gathering downstairs to pick at the Reese’s Puffs like scavenging animals had prompted Lara to prepare some proper food.
‘It’s so dead here,’ Olly said.
‘There’ll be loads going on. You’ve just got to hunt it out,’ Marcus said, chewing. Lara wished he wouldn’t eat so noisily, but he always maintained that table manners were for the bourgeoisie.
‘You reckon?’ Olly picked up his plate and licked it, something Lara had also given up complaining about.
‘And once you get to know the actors and theatre people, well, that’ll be fun.’
‘There’s James and Betty’s party tonight for starters,’ Lara said.
‘What party?’ They all turned to look at her.
She slapped her forehead. ‘I completely forgot to tell you, didn’t I? It’s tonight at seven thirty. After the show. “Meet the guys”, James said.’
‘Do we have to go?’ Olly said.
‘Of course you have to go,’ Marcus said. ‘You were complaining how there’s nothing to do, and now you don’t want to go to a party.’
‘Chill pill.’
‘I hate it when you say that.’ Marcus glared at his sullen son.
‘That’s why he says it, Father,’ Bella said.
‘Where is it?’
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