Chapter 21

The house was bigger than it looked online. There was a full-sized basement, and I estimated that the usable area of the attic was about seventy-five percent of the floor area below it, the five bedrooms were a very good size, even the smallest was bigger than my parent’s room at home, although one was obviously the master. It had a balcony, large en-suite bathroom with a jacuzzi, and a separate room for storing clothes. What I think they call a walk-in closet.

Downstairs, there was all the usual rooms, kitchen, utility room, lounge and dining room. There was also a study, separate TV room, games room and a library.

We decided to leave exploring the outside until the next morning. Amanda, the agent who had met us promised to come back and do the takeover inspection the following morning as well as taking us to the local supermarket. For supper tonight and breakfast tomorrow she recommended the local small supermarket, which, she said, had a better than adequate restaurant.

For the moment, we sorted out bedrooms and got the beds made, Maria opted for the room at the far end of the house from the master suite.

When I asked her why she’d chosen that, she just indicated the master suite with her head.

“Have you any idea how loud you two get in there?” she asked.

We watched her walk along the corridor to her room and as she turned at the door and blew us a kiss.

“We’re not really that loud, are we?” Sandy asked me.

“I don’t think so, perhaps it was just her way of giving us some space.,” I replied.

She took me by the hand and led me into the bedroom, where we slowly undressed each other, encased Sandy’s leg cast in a large plastic bag, got into the large shower cubicle and after drying ourselves proceeded to test just how loud we were.

The following morning we were all up early, but Maria beat us to it by about twenty minutes, judging by the way the coffee machine was just finishing its brew.

“We’re going to have to go out for breakfast,” she said, “there’s nothing suitable in the house, unless you like oatmeal.”

We’d just finished our coffee when the doorbell rang and I went off to answer it. It was Amanda. I invited her in for a coffee, and she told us that she would take whoever was doing the shopping to the local supermarket, then explained that a lot of places were called supermarkets that were merely grocery shops. The one she did her weekly shopping at was the Real Canadian Superstore in Richmond.

“There’s a slight problem in that we won’t be able to fit Sandy in the car,” she said, “not with the cast on her leg.”

“That’s all right,” Sandy said, “I’ll stay here, it will give me a chance to unpack.”

“How about I go and do the shopping, and you both stay here?” Maria suggested, “after all, I’m supposed to be the housekeeper. That way you can get all your things situated and start to look at what else we’ll need for the house.”

“Are you sure,” I asked, “I’m happy to come with you.”

“Do you know what we need to set up a kitchen from scratch?” she asked.

“Well, no,” I answered, “but...”

“But nothing,” she answered, “I’m best equipped to do that, you two stay here. There may be things Sandy needs lifting and carrying.”

Once the two of them had left, I sat on the sofa next to Sandy.

“How are you doing Sandy?” I asked.

“Fine,” she replied.

“Define fine,” I continued.

“I’m healing fast,” she said, “another couple of weeks and I’ll be chasing you round the bedroom.”

“But what about the rest of it?” I asked, “You were raped, and yet you seem to have just shrugged it off.”

“David,” she said, “I’m fine, really. I haven’t just shrugged it off, but I am coping. I’ve seen a therapist, and she’s given me the number of a colleague up here if I need it. I am coping. If, sometimes, I seem a little off, then please, don’t try and wrap me up in cotton wool. I have a coping strategy, and it works for me.”

“Want to talk about it?” I asked.

“Later,” she said, “I have a more important task for you right now.”

“Which is?” I prompted.

“It involves lifting and carrying,” she said, “will you please lift me off this sofa and carry me up to our bedroom.”

“Certainly,” I said, doing as she asked.

“Then demonstrate to me once again, how it feels to be loved.”

“No rest for the wicked,” I complained, insincerely, and I set off up the stairs.

Afterwards, I finished our unpacking. We were here for six months, there was no need to live out of our suitcases.

“You know, the three of us need to go out and get a car,” I said, “probably one of those small people carriers.”

“Won’t that be expensive?” she asked.

“Not as expensive as constantly hiring, or using taxis,” I replied, “particularly if we start going off at weekends.”

“Well, you’re the one with the money,” she said, “but what would we do with one when we leave?”

“Sell it,” I said, “I’m sure that the loss we made on it would be less than the cost of hiring one for six months.”

“Probably,” she agreed, “how much longer do you think Mom will be?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been shopping with her and, don’t forget, she’s setting up her larder from scratch.”

“Well, she’s normally gone about three hours, so maybe four this time,” she replied.

“Then let’s you and I go check what pots and pans we have in the kitchen and what we need to buy.”

We spent the next half-hour looking through cupboards in the kitchen. We had a microwave, a cooker, coffee filter machine, dishwasher and a deep fryer and Sandy made a list of the things that they had back home and weren’t here.

By the time Maria got back with the shopping, we had quite a list. Add to that, spare bed linen and towels and we’d be having a hell of a shopping expedition, but, the first thing was for us to get mobile.

A quick search on the internet found us what appeared to be a suitable vehicle, a Dodge Grand Caravan, a seven seater people carrier (although they called it a mini-van) and rather than go right out and buy one, we decided to rent one for a few days to try it out.

A local company, Discount Car Rentals had one available, and we arranged to go down and check it out later in the day.

It took us half an hour, working together to get everything stored away in the kitchen. We had one of those big two-door American style fridges and, in a walk-in larder off to one side a chest freezer big enough for a family of six. Between those and the shelves in the larder we had room for a healthy amount of food in the place. Maria opened two cans of Heinz Tomato soup, and we had that and cheese sandwiches for lunch. The supermarket had genuine Cheshire Cheese, rather than that horrible Monterey Jack every shop in America seems to sell, so that was a treat. I cleared the dishes into the dishwasher before we rang for a taxi and went to pick up a car.

The man in the rental office looked askance as we trooped in, A woman in her thirties, a teenage boy and a slightly older girl on crutches.

“Yes, can I help you?” he asked.

“We rang earlier about the Dodge mini-van,” Maria said, “we’d like to rent it for a week, if it’s suitable.”

“Certainly, Madam,” he replied, “I’m sure it will be ideal for whatever purpose you have in mind.”

“Just getting around,” Maria answered, “as you can see, my daughter’s not very mobile, and a standard car isn’t very comfortable.”

“You realise that your son won’t be able to drive it?” he asked.

“If I had a son, I would realise that, yes,” she answered, “Mr Barker is our employer.”

He looked dumbfounded.

“Your employer?” he stammered, “but he’s...”

“He’s sixteen and an actor,” she explained, “we’re here to make a TV series. My daughter is his PA, I’m the housekeeper.”

“Oh,” he said, “obviously confused, “I see.”

Maria produced her New Jersey driving licence; he copied the details onto a long form which he then had her sign and I produced my Amex card.

Ten minutes later, after the agent had explained where everything was on the car, we were driving through the city of Vancouver. The first thing I decided was that we needed a sat-nav system.

“Costco,” Maria said, “we should get everything we need at Costco.”

“Don’t we have to be members?” I asked.

“We are,” Sandy said, “and the card is valid in any country.”

“Then let’s go home and find out where the Vancouver branch is,” I said, “if there is one.”

There was, and by dinner time, we had everything we needed, including the sat-nav, and a printer for the laptops.

It was too late for Maria to start cooking, so I suggested taking us all out. We’d go and look at the car that the dealer had another time. As a courtesy I got Sandy to ring him and make an appointment for after the weekend. He tried pressurising her by saying that he couldn’t guarantee still having it by then, but she wasn’t falling for it, she told him, we’d take that risk.

Once that was decided, we got back in the car and found a small seafood place by the harbour and had a very nice meal. I had the sea bass, Sandy had Scampi and maria had a mixed seafood platter that she said reminded her of home. When I mentioned Hoboken, she corrected me. She came from a small Island called Telendos in the Dodecanese, just off the coast of Kalymnos, which I’d heard of. We’d had a family holiday there when I was about seven in the town just across from the little island, as I called it.

“That would be Myrties,” Maria said, “I know most of the people there. Did you never go over to Telendos?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I replied.

“I think you’d have remembered,” she replied, “it has the only nudist beach.”

“I doubt it I was only about seven years old,” I complained.

“And male,” Sandy added.

“Maybe you could take me there next summer,” I suggested to her.

“Why spend all that money?” Sandy asked, “you get to see just as much in the bedroom.”

“But that’s only one of you, there’s a whole beachful out there,” I said with a leer.

“Which you’re very welcome to go hunting,” she said, “alone.”

Then she flounced out of the room.

“Whoops,” I said to Maria, “I seem to have hit a nerve. I think perhaps I’d better go and apologise.”

“Give her a minute first,” Maria advised me, “she’s feeling a little fragile right now.”

“Is there a problem?” I asked.

“I don’t think it’s anything serious,” she replied, “but I know she’s suffering some pain from the broken bones, and she has a headache. Add to that the fact that she’s a girl whose period is due in a day or so, and she’s definitely feeling fragile.”

“Then I should definitely go and comfort her,” I said.

“OK,” she agreed, “but I never heard it called that before.”

I gave her a look of disbelief, then almost ran up the stairs and knocked on the door of our shared bedroom. When there was no reply, I slowly opened the door and stepped inside. The room was empty.

I definitely remembered her going upstairs, and there was no other way back downstairs then the staircase, so, I reasoned she must be in one of the other bedrooms. I went to each of them in turn and found her in the third one that I checked, sitting on the bed and staring into space.

“Hey,” I said as I walked in, “I’m sorry. I was only kidding, you know. You’re the only female I have any interest in.”

She looked at me silently for a long moment, then gave me a little smile.

“Really?” she asked quietly.

“Really,” I answered, “Sandy, I am absolutely a one-woman guy. So long as you’re my girlfriend, I will not be going after any others. And I won’t be letting any other girls who chase me, catch me. I promise.”

“I’m sorry too,” she said, “I guess I’m just not feeling very good right now, and I took it out on you, I am sorry.”

I sat down beside her on the bed and put my arms round her, pulling her close.

“I love you Sandra Dunham,” I said softly, “don’t lose sight of that fact. Do you feel up to coming back down?”

“Not yet,” she replied, equally softly, “there’s something I need to do first.”

“All right,” I said, a little disappointed, “I’ll see you when you get back down.”

“No,” she answered, “you need to stay.”

“OK, but why?” I asked.

“Because, silly,” she said, “make-up sex isn’t much fun on your own.”

But it is, let me tell you, a lot of fun with two.

It was half an hour later when we pulled our clothes on and walked together back downstairs.

“Friends again?” Maria asked as we walked together into the kitchen

“Yes,” Sandy said, “I’ve apologised.”

Maria sniffed.

“You could have showered afterwards,” she suggested, “that’s really what I call rubbing my nose in it.”

“You know I can’t get in the shower easily, Mom,” Sandy answered, “and if I’d let David give me a sponge bath, we’d still have been up there, then he’d have had to do the sponge bath all over again.”

“In that case,” she said, “David, you go and get a shower, and you, young lady, I’ll take you to the bathroom and give you an all-over wash. Have you forgotten we’re eating out tonight?”

“No, Mom,” she said, “I hadn’t, sorry Mom.”

“Yes, sorry Mom,” I added before going back upstairs to the house bathroom to shower.

Dinner was at a Greek restaurant not far from the house. Maria had discovered it when she went out shopping earlier, and it was delicious food, and what I would call traditional Greek and, judging from the amount of, what sounded to me like Greek, being spoken by the diners, very popular with the Greek community.