The Three Rs by Ashe Barker

liking, but I feel safe with him.
    “There’s a problem with the flat. The boiler’s broken. I’ve got a new one on order and I can fit it for you next week. For now though, you’ll be in my spare room. Unless you prefer a hotel, of course. There are a couple of nice places in the town center. I can book you in somewhere and you can leave your stuff here for the time being…?”
    A hotel? I can’t drum up even the slightest enthusiasm for spending hours alone in a strange town, stranded in an impersonal hotel room. A few days as Cain Parrish’s guest might be unexpected, but the house looks nice. And more importantly, it looks big enough to allow me to have some privacy if I need it.
    “I see. No, no hotel, thank you. This is fine. I’d prefer to stay with you, if you’re sure I won’t be in your way.”
    “I’ll let you know soon enough if you are. Come on, I’ll show you round. If you’re still insisting you never met my uncle, then I have to assume you’ve never been here before.” He opens his door and leaps to the ground before strolling round the front of the van to help me down.
    I take the hand he offers and glare at him, making no attempt to conceal my irritation at his continued mistrust. “Of course I haven’t. This was his house then?” I step down onto the driveway and study the stately frontage of the house, unconsciously imagining it reproduced in charcoal. It would make a nice picture, and I might well spend tomorrow creating it, as it sounds as though I won’t be able to do anything about getting settled into my flat.
    “Yep. I inherited it when he died. Moved in here myself only about a month ago so the place is still a bit old-fashioned. Needs redecorating, a modern kitchen, that sort of thing. Nothing I can’t handle, it’s just a case of getting round to it.” He’s opening the rear doors of the van as he explains, and he leans in to grab the largest of my boxes.
    I step forward, intending to help carry my stuff, but he’s having none of that. He pulls a key from his pocket.
    “This is yours, for while you’re here. Could you open the front door please?”
    I nod and turn to do as he’s asked. I unlock the door then push it open wide for him to carry the first of my boxes through. He strides along the hallway and up the stairs, me following in his wake. At the top of the stairs he turns left along the landing then stops by a door.
    “This is the spare room. I think you’ll be comfortable enough in here. Could you…?”
    I reach around him to open the door, and he marches in. He deposits my box at the foot of a double bed before crossing the room to open the curtains. I stand inside the doorway, looking around at my new—if temporary—home.
    It’s nice. Very nice in fact. Old fashioned, certainly, but comfortable. Clean, light and airy. Cheerful. This is a happy place, I can feel it. James must have been a very nice man, in spite of his odd habit of writing strangers into his will. My bed is a double, the frame made of solid wood. Oak perhaps. There’s a matching wardrobe and dressing table, and a small vanity unit in one corner. It’s just a wash basin, with a mirror over it, but it’s somewhere to do my make-up.
    The room even has a tiny fireplace, but I don’t think it’s used often. The central heating seems perfectly efficient. The walls are papered in a tasteful pale yellow, and the carpet is gray and yellow, and feels very thick, the pile deep and soft under my feet. I’m tempted to slip my pumps off and sink my toes in, but I suspect that might seem a little over-familiar given I’m only to be here a few days.
    “Will this be all right?” He looks at me expectantly, hopefully even.
    I nod my agreement. “It’s lovely. Thank you. It’s very kind of you to put me up like this. I mean, in the circumstances…”
    He smiles now, and it’s another of those genuine smiles, the sort that lights up his gorgeous face and actually reaches his eyes. “Ah, Miss