Page 32 of The Village of Lost and Found

‘That wasn’t what I meant,’ said Molly, frowning. ‘You know he gets a bit funny. I think it’s nice that he gets jealous occasionally. It means he cares about me.’

‘He never seems particularly funny to me,’ said Belle, but she held up her hand to stop Molly protesting further. ‘OK, OK. If you’re sure about him, then who are we to judge?’

There was obviously a history of trouble there, thought Lucy, and she was tempted to ask more. But what possible advice could she give on relationships?

Later that evening, as she walked home with Molly, she wondered what it would be like to live somewhere in Cranbridge. To have friends and family close by to meet up and laugh and chat to.

But she told herself that she was only visiting and that it was a dream that could never come true, even if she wanted it to.

17

It had been a busy week, thought Lucy, stretching out on her bed on Saturday morning. But she had some sense of satisfaction about the tidying that she had completed so far in the office. It had felt good to feel useful, she realised. To actually achieve something and help someone.

She had fallen into the routine of working before visiting Uncle Frank around mid-afternoon each day. It was lovely to be able to spend some proper time with him, she realised.

Her parents hadn’t called her to even check up on them both, but Uncle Frank hadn’t mentioned her leaving any time soon and she was grateful. It felt like a holiday to be staying in Cranbridge, so she and Tom had agreed that he was happy for her to keep tidying up the office for the following week as well.

The only cloud on her horizon were the occasional photographs of her that still showed up in the tabloids as Jamie and his wife sorted out their marital problems. Just when she was hoping to move on from the whole mistake, another photo would appear and her name would show up everywhere on social media again.

Her mind still on other things, when she got up from bed to wander into the kitchen, Lucy almost bumped straight into a strange man.

‘Hey,’ said the man with a wide grin. ‘I’m Gary. Molly’s boyfriend.’ He placed an arm across the corner of the kitchen, where he stood as if intending to trap her in there. ‘You must be Molly’s new roommate.’

‘That’s me,’ said Lucy, ducking under his arm to head over to switch on the kettle. She had finally got organised and bought some coffee and tea from the shop.

As she turned around, she found Gary very slowly giving her vest and short pyjama bottoms the once-over. It pretty much told Lucy everything she needed to know about Gary. The guy was a creep.

‘You know what?’ she said, flicking the kettle off again once more. ‘I forgot we don’t have any coffee. I think I’ll get takeout this morning.’

And she quickly went back into her bedroom to get changed and head out of the apartment before she had to endure another minute alone with Gary.

It was such a shame, she thought as she went downstairs and out the back door. She was beginning to enjoy Molly’s company. But Gary seemed like a fly in the ointment. She could certainly see why Amber and Belle weren’t keen on him.

Deep in thought, she was about to head up the steps into the shop when she heard a noise from underneath the veranda.

She stopped and crouched down, surprised to find herself face to face with Henry’s grey shaggy dog whom she hadn’t seen since the beginning of the week.

‘Hello,’ she said to the dog. ‘What are you doing down there?’

‘You know, it’s a sign of insanity talking to yourself,’ said a voice behind her.

She straightened up to come face to face with Tom. ‘Maybe it’s the only way I can get some intelligent conversation,’ she told him.

‘Touché,’ he replied grinning. ‘What’s going on?’

‘It’s Henry’s dog,’ she told him, crouching down once more.

‘Yeah, he often turns up here,’ said Tom.

‘On his own?’ Lucy was shocked. The dog was looking at her with his big brown eyes in the most sorrowful way.

Tom shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’ve heard that he keeps running away.’

‘Well, he can’t stay under here,’ said Lucy, holding out her hand. ‘Hey, boy. You want me to take you home?’

The dog slowly inched his way out from under the veranda until he was close enough to give her hand a soft lick.

‘Ewww,’ said Lucy, but she still reached out to stroke the wiry grey fur on his head.