Sophie Weston - Catching Katie

‘Oh.’

Lisa Harding had been desperate. She had checked with the school that Katie was who she said she was, but she had not asked for references. And she had given Katie only the sketchiest breakdown of her task. Neighbours had barely figured. All Katie knew about the next-door house was that it was owned by a millionaire who was a fanatical anti-noise freak but fortunately was seldom in residence. A security expert had not been mentioned.

Katie looked doubtfully across at the man. He did not look like anybody’s staff.

She said slowly, ‘How do I know that?’

‘What?’ She had disconcerted him.

‘You might be pulling a double bluff,’ she pointed out. ‘Perhaps you are the intruder.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Burglary,’ said Katie, warming to her theme. ‘I fell out of the tree and disturbed you.’

‘You did that all right,’ he muttered.

Katie decided not to hear him.

‘Saturday must be the perfect day. Especially if the old boy who owns the place is away. So you start accusing me while I’m still disorientated. Before I can ask you what you’re up to,’ she finished triumphantly.

The man appeared to be speechless. Katie found it exhilarating. She beamed.

He said curtly, ‘This is nonsense and you know it.’

‘You would say that, wouldn’t you?’

He gave her a look of acute dislike. ‘You may have observed that the dog knows me. Stupid though the creature undoubtedly is, it is a trained guard dog. Its job is to challenge intruders. As you found.’

Katie had not thought of that. ‘Oh.’

‘Tell me about this advertisement,’ he said in a neutral tone.

Katie grimaced, remembering. ‘I thought I was really lucky to find it.’ She was unconscious of the wistfulness in her voice.

The man’s eyes sharpened. ‘Why?’

‘Well, I’ve only been in London nine months but I’ve lived in six different places—not counting the floors I’ve slept on in between,’ she said ruefully. ‘The last one was a shared flat in Clapham.’

‘The place you moved out of today?’

She nodded.

He said slowly, ‘What went wrong?’

‘Oh, the usual,’ said Katie bitterly. ‘It was great for a while. Lots of fun. We had great laughs together. Then one of the girls started an affair with another one’s boyfriend and it all fell apart. Sex,’ she added, ‘can be a great mistake. ’

Quite suddenly, the man’s lips twitched. It made him look horridly sexy, Katie thought. On top of everything else, it wasn’t fair. She looked away.

He said gravely, ‘Which one were you?’

She was startled into looking him in the eyes. ‘What?’

‘The betrayer or the betrayed?’ he explained.

‘Oh.’ Katie gave a choke of startled laughter. ‘Neither. Much worse than that.’

His eyebrows flew up. ‘Worse?’

‘I was the one they were still both talking to,’ she said drily.

Haydon bit back a smile. ‘I see,’ he said gravely. ‘Exhausting.’

‘You can say that again.’

Between the weeping, the hurt pride, the recriminations and the unpaid bills, Katie had been at her wits’ end. All she had wanted was to find somewhere, anywhere, to live on her own once more.

That was when she had seen the advertisement. A reliable person was wanted to live in a South London house and care for the garden while the owner was abroad for three months. The house was a comfortable walk or a short bus ride from the school where she taught. She did not know anything about gardening but, heck, there was always the public library. It had seemed like the answer to a prayer.

Some of this she told him. She would have been surprised and annoyed if she had guessed how much she did not tell him that he still managed to piece together.

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