‘Lucky you,’ Rachel snorted. ‘Tell me, does she stop moaning long enough to enjoy it?’
‘Only when she falls asleep but then she doesn’t stop snoring – though, of course, you haven’t heard that from me!’ Holly laughed. She pulled Harry up onto her knee and gave him a cuddle. ‘Look after Mum for me until next time,’ she said into his thick blond hair.
‘I will,’ Harry said solemnly.
Holly smiled. She was still thinking about Rachel’s advice to seize the day as she walked back to her flat. Perhaps she had been a little cautious and land-locked lately. Maybe it was time to live a little dangerously.
11
Much to her surprise, when Holly checked her online bookings for massages the following week, she found that Charlie had booked himself in for one on Thursday evening. He’s probably going to claim it on expenses, she thought, then chided herself for her cynicism. Despite Charlie’s political party affiliations, she was sure not everything came down to money.
She cashed up quickly that afternoon, and about ten minutes before Charlie was due to arrive she found herself upstairs applying a little more deodorant (a freebie from an organic fragrance company that was trying to court her business) and running a brush through her hair. Ruefully, she realised she wouldn’t be doing this if she had any other client coming. She didn’t want to question her motivations too closely, though.
Just as she was about to head back down to the shop and light the candle in the massage room, she heard a muffled meow from behind her.
‘Hey, Arthur,’ she said fondly as she turned around. ‘Are you hungry? Oh, I see you’ve brought your own food tonight.’
There, in the ginger cat’s jaws was a large field mouse. Holly was generally unfazed by Arthur’s tendency to hunt and bring her home some of his catches, reasoning that it was par for the course when you owned, or were indeed owned by, a cat, although she would have preferred it if he finished them off beforehand – she’d had to rescue rodents and even small rabbits from the dark corners of her flat on a few occasions and it was quite tedious and time-consuming.
Unfortunately, this time Arthur’s catch was large, vocal and very much alive. And as she strolled towards Arthur to try to shoo him back down the stairs and out of his cat flap, he dropped the mouse and shot into her bedroom.
‘Great. Thanks so much, Arthur!’
Holly glanced at the clock and realised Charlie was due any minute. Swearing under her breath, she debated the options. Her living room was very open, but there were enough crevices for a rodent to hide, and while she wasn’t squeamish, the thought of a mouse running over her feet at an unwary moment made her skin crawl. She could close the door to the flat temporarily, but there were gaps under her doors that a mouse might easily slip under. The last thing she needed was it loose in ComIncense. There were far too many tasty things for it to nibble on down there, not least the expensive artisan beeswax candles she stocked from a local supplier near Wells. Nor would a free-ranging mouse be the most inviting sight for her customers.
The bell over the front door of the shop tinkled and Holly’s heart quickened.
‘Charlie, is that you?’ Holly called.
‘Yes, it’s me,’ a voice returned her enquiry. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Can you drop the latch on the front door, and flip the sign then come up here for a sec?’ Holly replied. Charlie was a few minutes early, after all, and four hands would be better than two for catching the recalcitrant rodent.
‘Sure, OK.’ Charlie sounded intrigued, but the clunk of the catch of the front door showed he’d done what she’d asked.
Holly heard his footsteps coming up the back stairs to her flat and felt even more irritated by the loose mouse. In a few moments, Charlie was at her door.
‘What are you doing?’ Charlie’s voice was laced with amusement as it wafted from the open door of the flat.
‘Close the door, quickly!’ Holly hissed from over by the sofa, from which she’d removed the colourful throws so that she could see underneath it. She was holding the dustpan from the shop and was peering under the sofa, watching intently.
Doing as he was told, Charlie pushed the door shut and padded over to the sofa.
‘Can I help?’ he asked. ‘Are you looking for something?’
‘Arthur brought in a mouse just now,’ Holly muttered. ‘And, being the considerate soul that he is, he decided to show it to me before he polished it off, but because he’s so old, and his teeth are a bit crap, he dropped it and it escaped before he could catch it again. And I’ve cornered it to this part of the room, but the last thing I want is to let it loose downstairs – there’s too much for it to feast on down there.’
‘I’m sure I’ve got a spare mousetrap at home,’ Charlie offered. ‘The town house was riddled with the buggers when I moved in, but a colleague suggested peanut butter in a trap; worked every time.’
‘No way,’ Holly snapped. ‘It’s one thing Arthur bringing them in for his dinner, but I don’t want to kill it unnecessarily if I can help it. Arthur’s curled up on my bed, asleep, of course.’
‘Shall I go and get him?’ Charlie asked, feeling at a bit of a loss.
‘No point,’ Holly sighed. ‘He’d just look at you like you’re mad. Bloody cats!’
Charlie dropped down to his knees and peered under the sofa. ‘Are you sure it’s under here? I can’t see any— Oh, Christ!’ Grabbing his ankle, he let out a yelp.
‘What is it?’ Holly dropped the dustpan and looked up to see Charlie, whose hands had suddenly moved up to the back of his right knee and were gripping on for dear life. ‘Have you got cramp?’
‘I think I’ve found your bloody mouse,’ Charlie spoke through gritted teeth.
Holly glanced down to Charlie’s knee, then she burst out laughing. ‘Are you serious?’ There, below the fabric of Charlie’s suit trousers, was a small, frantically wriggling ball, that was only being prevented from shooting further up Charlie’s trouser leg by his furiously gripping hands.
‘Can you stop laughing and help me?’ Charlie’s face was torn between abject terror and ticklish laughter.
Holly thought, for a moment, how funny but lovely that looked, before common sense returned.
‘You’ll have to drop your trousers,’ she said, choking back another gale of laughter. ‘And try not to let the thing get away when you do.’
‘Sod it getting away,’ Charlie howled, ‘I need it out of my trouser leg!’ With both hands still clutching either side of the mouse bulge down his leg, Charlie looked helplessly at Holly.
‘What?’ she said, still finding it extremely difficult to keep a straight face.
‘I can’t move my hands,’ Charlie said, his panic rising. ‘If I do, the bloody thing’s going to shoot straight upwards.’
‘And they’ve got seriously sharp teeth,’ Holly said. ‘I remember getting bitten by one when I was a kid. Drew blood and everything.’
‘That’s not helpful,’ Charlie winced.
‘Sorry,’ Holly smirked, realising exactly now why Charlie didn’t want the mouse travelling any further up his leg. ‘What do you want me to do?’