AFTER THE MEETING ANDREW YOUNG HAD SET OFF ON FOOT to find Gavin Adstone’s wife, Kate. There was nobody at home, and as he had not made an appointment he decided to wander about for a while. She couldn’t have gone far, as a car was parked in the open garage.
Andrew had met Gavin in the pub a couple of evenings ago, and in the course of conversation had mentioned his interior décor business. Gavin had said that his wife had been talking about giving the cottage a makeover. It was very dingy, he said, but as they’d been so busy with bringing up baby since they moved to the village, they hadn’t had time to think about what they would want to do about decorating.
Now he walked briskly around the village, turning back into Church Street, and if she had returned, he intended to say he had just been at a meeting in the village and thought he would look in as he was passing. There had obviously been some kind of family service in the church, and knots of young mothers with pushchairs and small hangers-on were grouped on the pavement. Andrew had no idea what Kate Adstone looked like, so kept going until he reached the cottage. He knocked at the door, and heard a shout from behind him. An attractive, dark-haired girl was running towards him, the pushchair bumping over the uneven pavement.
“Looking for me?” she gasped, out of breath as she approached.
“Are you Kate?” Andrew asked.
He didn’t look like a salesman, Kate thought. He was dressed casually, had curly dark hair, and an open smile. “Yes, I am. Can I help you?” she said.
Andrew explained that he had met Gavin in the pub, and that as well as cleaning for New Brooms he ran an interior décor business, and wondered if she would like to have a chat. Gavin had said they might be interested in brightening up their cottage.
“We had talked about it,” she said. “He mentioned meeting you in the pub. But I think it would be best if you came when he was at home. He hates being left out! How about this evening? He usually gets back around half six. Would that be any good?”
“Fine,” replied Andrew, abandoning his plan for an evening with a takeaway and a film. “I’ll come around seven, shall I? Or half-past, maybe? We men always think better on a full stomach.”
As he made his way back to his car, still parked outside Meade House, Andrew remembered Bridie Reading’s dramatic story, and wondered who the poor sod was who’d been looking for work. It was a downwards spiral, being homeless, as he knew from his work in the Tresham shelter just up the road from his flat. No permanent address, so no job. Stealing money to buy alcohol and drugs was all part of the sad decline.
Andrew had been through bad times himself after his parents were killed in a car crash, and remembered only too well the awful lethargy that overtook him when he should have been out looking for a job, starting a new life. At least he had had money to tide him over.
“COME IN, ANDREW.” GAVIN ADSTONE SAID HEARTILY. HE STOOD at the door of his cottage, authoritative and welcoming.
Aha, thought Andrew, he’s been on a self-assertion course. First rule: establish who is boss straightaway, especially when someone is trying to sell you something.
“Hello,” said Andrew. “Lovely evening. Nice of you to give up some time to see me. I am sure we shall have an enjoyable discussion, and if nothing comes of it, no matter. I shall have gained a couple of friends, I hope!”
Kate appeared with small Cecilia in her arms. Andrew made a clown face at the little one and raised a laugh. “Three new friends, I should say,” he said. He had been on a course or two himself.