Hold Me Close - Talia Hibbert Page 0,43

Ruth murmur something in response.

“Yes, well, never mind that. How are you, anyway? I haven’t seen you in an age! My Penny’s always harping on about missing you at the library—”

With a scoff of disgust, Hannah marched out of the bathroom. Then she cried with exaggerated pleasure, “Mr. Clarke! There you are!”

“Hannah!” the man said. “You’re here and all, are you? You know, I always tell the missus, I say, it’s so nice how them Kabbah girls stick together. Our lads are always at each other’s throats. They—”

An older man with grey, balding hair appeared in the bathroom door. He pulled up short at the sight of Evan, his mouth hanging open mid-monologue. Behind him, both Ruth and Hannah hovered anxiously. Ruth was clean again, wearing fresh pyjamas. Her cheeks were shiny. Evan wanted to kiss them.

Inappropriate thought. Move on.

He rose from his crouch by the plug hole and wiped a hand on his jeans, then held it out to Mr. Clarke—who, it seemed, was the plumber. “Hi,” he said. “Evan Miller. I live next door.”

“I know who you are, lad,” the plumber said, his tone gruff. “My sister’s already called me about some strapping blonde feller who stormed out of her shop. Newcomer, she says. She’s taken against ye.”

Evan wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he kept his mouth shut.

The plumber’s face broke into a sudden smile. He grasped Evan’s hand and shook firmly and said, “Any man who pisses off my sister is a friend of mine. Or any woman, for that matter.” He turned back to look at the girls.

Hannah said, her voice a hell of a lot sweeter than it had been with Evan, “We appreciate you coming out yourself, Mr. Clarke.”

The man grunted. “Them lads of mine is alright, but thick as pig shit. Don’t know who’s worth respect. Let’s have a look ‘ere, then. You checked the valve, have you, my lad?”

Evan looked down at the copper pieces in his hand. “Oh, yeah. Nothing there. I just—”

“No worries. I already know what it is.”

“You do?”

He turned a wry look back at the sisters. “Oh, aye. I come out to a Kabbah girl once every six months at least.” He winked conspiratorially and lowered his voice, as if Ruth and Hannah weren’t standing a metre away. “I don’t know how they’ve got any hair on their heads, the amount that gets down the plug hole.”

“Mr. Clarke!” Hannah gasped in clearly feigned outrage. When Evan looked up, she was smiling.

Ruth was gone.

While Clarke sorted out the shower, Evan was unceremoniously frogmarched to the door by Hannah. He didn’t expect so much as fervently hope that Ruth might appear out of nowhere and demand that he stay.

Ruth did not appear.

“Thank you very much for your help,” Hannah said as she held the front door open, “but we have things in hand now.”

He crossed his arms and tried to think of a reasonable excuse to ignore her. “Where’s Ruth? I want to make sure she’s okay.”

Hannah didn’t respond; she just gave him A Look. Kabbah women, it turned out, were very good at looking.

“I told you,” he said stubbornly, “I care about her. Why’d she disappear?”

“Because too many people talking at once makes her anxious,” Hannah said briskly. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, she leaned in and whispered, “and because Mr. Clarke is a terrible gossip.”

Evan frowned. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“He’s one of the few people who doesn’t treat Ruth like shit. Or me, for that matter. But it doesn’t change the fact that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut for a mountain of gold—so by this time tomorrow, the whole town will know that she came out of your flat like it was nothing, while you fiddled with her shower.” She made this sound like an accusation of adultery.

Evan almost rolled his eyes. Ruth was rubbing off on him. “I don’t see how that’s particularly incriminating.”

“Right,” Hannah said with icy sweetness. “Because Ruth really needs the town talking about her love life.”

“I—pardon?”

Hannah gave a snort of disgust. “Men.”

That, apparently, was her version of goodbye. She jerked her head toward the door, and Evan, in a haze of confused worry, went.

She shut it carefully behind him. He supposed, if she slammed it the way she so clearly wanted to, it’d be more fodder for Mr. Clarke’s rumour mill.

20

“I’ll be leaving early again,” Zach said. “But I’m hoping to finish the wall piece. I don’t want you doing that.”

“You mean I’m not capable of doing