The Startling Inaccuracy of the First Impression Read online

  Sighing, she decided that maybe it would be best located in front of the window. Of course, that meant moving her desk into the other corner and relocating her bookcase.

  The apartment was large, more than large enough for one person, but Verity had definitely found ways to fill it over the ten years she’d lived there. That said, the majority of her hoarding ways had come in the last eighteen months since she’d taken early retirement.

  With all the time in the world, and a promise to master all of the hobbies she’d never previously had time for, Verity was filling her living space.

  “The second bedroom,” she decided to herself.

  The only person who ever came to stay overnight was Callum, and she’d not be playing the piano when he was asleep anyway.

  “Perfect.” She looked at her watch and realised that time had gotten away from her again. She needed to grab a bite to eat and get to the school to pick Callum up within the next hour.

  3

  Meeting Miss Forsyth

  Katie zipped up her long-sleeved Lycra top and shrugged her shoulders a couple of times to allow it to settle into a comfortable position. She put on her thick, waterproof overtrousers.

  It had taken a bit of getting used to, tight leggings underneath and bulky trousers on top, but when she was on her bike for hours in all weather, she was grateful for the protection from the elements.

  She put on and zipped up her waterproof jacket, grabbed her bike helmet, her phone, keys, and wallet, and headed towards the door.

  One of the best things about being a courier was the abundance of work no matter where she was. All she needed to do was log into her account on her phone, push a button to say she was ready to work, and jobs would start popping up.

  It had made leaving Chris and their shared home all the easier.

  Peter had agreed to give her the keys the day after she viewed the apartment. Katie had taken less than an hour to pack her belongings that morning. With a suitcase, a rucksack, and two large IKEA bags, she’d boarded a couple of trains to start her new life.

  That was yesterday. She’d spent the day unpacking her few personal items and clothes and then sleeping. She’d not gotten much sleep since she finally made the decision to leave Chris, instead spending long, waking hours in the spare bedroom, staring at the ceiling and wondering how she would get out. And why it had taken her so long to realise she needed to.

  It was just over twenty-four hours since she’d taken the keys from Peter and moved in; now she was ready to get to work and become familiar with her new home. London was big, Greater London even bigger. Each area had its own quirks and neighbourhoods to discover.

  As a courier, the quicker she became familiar with the area, the more deliveries she could take on, the more money she could make.

  She slipped into her work boots and tied them up before exiting the apartment, locking her front door, and stepping into the garden. As she did, a large, dark brown van pulled up right outside the house. ‘Thompson’s Pianos’ was written in ornate lettering on the side.

  Katie walked over to her bike, placed the helmet on the seat, and plugged her phone into the dock between the handlebars.

  “Here it is, twenty-seven A,” she heard a male voice say. “Come on, Damian, hope you had a big breakfast.”

  Katie looked from the van to the house and realised that they were making a delivery to the upstairs apartment. Her jaw dropped open at the mere thought that a piano was about to be taken out of the back of van and carried upstairs. Just getting it up the step to the vestibule would be exhausting.

  “Ah, you’re here. I thought we said two? Well, never mind, you’re here now. I’ve cleared a space.”

  Katie watched the woman stalk up the path towards the delivery van. She was slim and had mid-length blonde hair that was so light it was almost white.

  “We should probably check it’s the right one,” she was saying. “You wouldn’t want to get it upstairs and then realise you’d made a mistake.”

  “Absolutely, Miss Forsyth,” the deliveryman said as he showed her the paperwork on his clipboard.

  “Wow, is that your bike?”

  Katie turned to see a young boy, no more than six years old, peeking around the wall of the vestibule at her. He had dark brown hair and wore thick glasses.

  “Yep,” Katie said. She gestured to the box on the back. “I deliver things for people.”

  “Like pizza?” he asked.

  “Sometimes.”

  “Callum, what are you doing down here?” The woman stopped midstride and looked at Katie. “Oh.”

  Katie smiled awkwardly. “Hey. You must be upstairs. I’m downstairs. Katie Ross.”

  “Upstairs? Yes, I suppose I am. I’m Verity Forsyth, and this is my nephew, Callum.”

  “Great-nephew,” Callum pointed out. “She’s my great-aunt.”

  “Yes, well, you don’t need to tell everyone just how old I am, thank you, Callum. Aunt will do.” Verity turned to look at the deliverymen, who were still struggling just getting the piano out of the back of the van.

  “I like saying it; it means we’re great,” Callum replied.

  Verity looked back at him, her face softening. “Yes, it does.”

  Being a courier meant that Katie met a lot of people, and one of her favourite games while making her way to her next delivery was picturing what the person would look like. With nothing more than a name to go on, it was fun to mentally picture what kind of person she would encounter.

  Verity Forsyth looked just like Katie supposed a Verity Forsyth should look. She was older, though she suspected she was in her fifties rather than in her eighties, which was the impression Katie got when someone mentioned great-aunts. She was well-spoken, held herself tall with her chin permanently lifted, and was dressed for a day in a posh London office.

  “Are you Merida?” Callum asked.

  Katie chuckled. It wasn’t the first time her long, red curls had gotten her compared to the Disney princess. “No, I’m Katie, but Merida is pretty cool.”

  “Where will you be putting your bike in the future?” Verity asked.

  Katie frowned and looked around the area. “Um. Here?”

  One eyebrow slowly rose. “Really?”

  “Yes, this is my side of the front garden, right?” Katie asked, worried that Peter had gotten confused and giving her the wrong information.

  “It is,” Verity confirmed. She looked around the area with a disappointed sigh. “I just think that a bike, in a garden, lets the area down a little. Wouldn’t you say, Miss Ross?”

  “I think I’ll keep it here,” she said. “I worry about it being stolen or vandalised on the street. At least here, I can keep an eye on it.” She tilted her head to indicate the window by the bike, her bedroom window.

  “Aunt Vere is getting a piano,” Callum said, completely missing the tension between the two women.

  “So I see.” Katie smiled at the boy. “Can you play the piano?”

  He shook his head. “No. I’m going to learn, though.”

  “I bet you’ll be brilliant at it,” Katie told him.

  “Maybe it could go behind the tree?” Verity asked, still on the matter of the bike.

  Katie turned around. Behind the tree was a tiny patch of ground and then a wall. It would be impossible to get a bike in and out.

  “Maybe just where it is,” Katie replied. She put on her helmet, indicating the conversation was over.

  She kicked up the stand and rolled the bike out of the garden and around the two men struggling with the large upright piano. She couldn’t help but wonder why anyone in an upstairs apartment would need a heavy, wooden piano when they could just as easily get an electric keyboard.

  Unless Verity was a concert pianist. She wouldn’t put it past her with a name like that.

  Katie flipped her visor down, started the engine, and pressed the button on her phone indicating that she was available to work.

  4

  The End of Pe
ace and Quiet

  Verity watched the young redhead drive off.

  “Well, that could have gone better,” she mumbled to herself. She looked back at the garden, noting the light tyre tracks that had already formed. Given frequent passage, she predicted they would get far worse, more unsightly.

  She turned to Callum who was stood on the vestibule still, just his socks on his feet.

  “Who is Merida?”

  “She’s a really cool Disney princess. She has red hair and a bow and arrow!”

  Verity couldn’t remember the film, not that she was exactly one for watching Disney movies.

  “I see. And why are you downstairs with no shoes on?”

  A large grin covered his face, pushing his already plump cheeks to maximum capacity.

  “I wanted to see the piano,” he explained.

  “Well, you’ll see it when it is upstairs. Now off you go.” She put her hands on her hips to show that she meant business. He eyed her for a second or two, determining if another cheeky smile would be able to sway her.

  Correctly deciding it wouldn’t, he turned and ascended the stairs, carefully holding onto the handrail as he did. Verity watched him, ensuring he went all the way to the top floor with no issues.

  When she was satisfied that he was safe and out of the way, she returned to watching the deliverymen. They were a catchy tune away from being the basis for a sitcom. One was young, gangly, and seemingly lacked all common sense and understanding of directions. The other was older, had a beer belly, and uselessly shouted instructions which fell on deaf ears.

  How they would navigate the fifteen steep steps to the top floor she had no idea.

  She tore her eyes away and looked again at the garden, complete with chain affixed to the tree and tyre tracks.

  How on earth is a pizza delivery girl able to afford that apartment? Verity mused. Is there someone else in there? Are they watching this farce right now?

  She turned around and looked at her own garden just in case a second tenant was watching her through a gap in the closed blinds.

  The previous tenants had been quiet and kept to themselves, something Verity had very much appreciated. Now she had someone new living below her and couldn’t help but wonder who they were.

  “Right. Upstairs, isn’t it?”

  She looked at the delivery driver who had finally managed to navigate the piano out of the truck and was now panting for breath on the path.

  “That’s right.” She walked towards the stairs. “I’ll get out of your way.”

  She climbed the stairs, removing a couple of framed photographs along her way, saving them from the delivery men fresh from the circus.

  “Maybe she is Merida,” Callum said as soon as she got to the top step.

  “I very much doubt that.”

  “If she was Merida, she might not say she was. If she was on a secret mission.”

  “Why would she be on a secret mission?” Verity asked.

  Callum shrugged. “Why wouldn’t she?”

  He returned to the children’s television show he’d been watching prior to the van turning up outside.

  Verity opened her mouth to reply but thought better of it. As he got older, his ability to talk them both into knots increased every day. She’d engaged in some of the most ludicrous conversations of her life while looking after Callum. This was something she ordinarily wouldn’t mind, but for some reason she really didn’t want to discuss Katie Ross and her horrible bike.

  She sat on the arm of the sofa and stared at the television. The show was utter nonsense, as was much of what Callum liked to watch. Still, it kept him happy and entertained and, on this particular day, off the stairs.

  Verity sipped her red wine, nearly spilling some as she was so engaged in her book. She’d gone from hardly having time to read at all when she’d been at work to reading around six books a week.

  Mysteries were her favourite.

  Most she found a little predictable or so absolutely ridiculous that no one could possibly guess the plot twists. She didn’t particularly enjoy either.

  She liked a mystery she could get her teeth into, one where she didn’t know who had committed the crime from the first quarter of the book. Likewise, she didn’t like so many plot twists she felt confused and disorientated by the end of it.

  The current book she was reading, a recommendation from someone on Amazon called Toady, was the perfect balance. She had her suspicions of who had killed Lord Andrews, but she wasn’t certain. So far, the plot had been rather reasonable and not dragging her through far-fetched scenarios designed to push her off course.

  It was the perfect end to a tiring day.

  The piano delivery had ended up taking an hour and a half. Eventually, the two men had declared they would need assistance and had called in reinforcements. Another two men had arrived with ropes and a long piece of wood.

  Callum has been fascinated, and Verity had done her best to keep him away, especially as frustration was building and language unsuitable for a six-year-old was starting to float up the stairwell.

  Finally, the piano entered the upstairs apartment. All the adults were relieved, as if they’d witnessed a particularly tricky birth. It was placed in the area she had set aside, and the stool was carried up and put in position by one man, the gangly one.

  Paperwork was signed, and the deliverymen left.

  By then it was time to take Callum home, which had caused a small tantrum as he very much wanted to play the piano.

  She allowed him one mash of the keys.

  She’d stayed with her niece for dinner after a last-minute invite she felt she couldn’t turn down. Mary had the notion that a thank-you for looking after her son was to spend even more time with him, but this time at a dinner table.

  Verity loved Callum dearly, but sometimes she really just wanted some quiet time away from him. Not that she’d ever say that to Mary, who was under the assumption that Verity needed something to do now that she had taken early retirement. She didn’t seem to understand that Verity was extremely happy with her decision to not have children of her own and didn’t feel at all like she was missing out.

  Spending a few hours with Callum every week was a delight, but so was dropping him back at home and returning to hers.

  Callum had wanted to show her his room and have her read him a bedtime story, which meant Verity had eventually extracted herself from her niece’s home at nine in the evening.

  As soon as she arrived home, she lit some candles, switched on the lamp by her reading chair, poured some wine, wrapped herself in a blanket, and picked up her book.

  Ideally, she would have done all of that two hours ago.

  Living in Greater London was never quiet. Verity had long ago weighed up the balance between being near all the amenities she craved and putting up with pollution, noisy traffic, crime, and all the other negatives associated with city life.

  She could go and live in the countryside, or in a smaller town, but that just wouldn’t work for her. She was a city person. She liked the theatre, restaurants that were open until late, museums, and large shopping centres with every kind of item available.

  She’d lived in a rural area for precisely eight months before it had become too much for her and she’d moved back to the city.

  Living near a hospital meant that ambulances whizzing by on the nearby main road were a frequent occurrence. And, when everything else was quiet, she could sometimes hear the rumbling of the Underground trains on the line that ran under the street.

  But all of this noise became background sounds after a while. Traffic, ambulance sirens, trains, they all faded into the murmuring nothing that was life in the city.

  The engine of a motorbike being driven into her shared garden did not blend into that background.

  Verity lowered her wine glass and sat up straight, listening to the low rumbling of the bike engine. After a few moments, the engine cut out. She lowered her book to her lap and continued to liste
n. She heard the chain being removed from the tree and being threaded around the bike. Metal on metal drifting up from the garden below to break through the ambient background noise enough to be irritating.

  “For goodness’ sake,” she mumbled.

  Heavy footsteps squelched through the muddy garden; it had rained earlier, causing a series of small puddles to form. There was a key in the door, followed by the door slamming shut. She winced, closed her eyes, and sucked in a deep breath.

  The previous tenants had also slammed their front door closed for the first few weeks until Verity pointed out that her living space was right above it. Following that, they took greater effort to close the door quietly. It looked like she would have to have the same conversation with Katie Ross.

  There were a few times when you could tell that the two apartments used to be one house. On the whole, the thick, Victorian walls and the excellent quality of the building meant that the apartment felt like a completely separate dwelling to the downstairs apartment, but now and then, it was very obvious that the downstairs apartment was indeed connected to her own.

  She picked up her book and tried to get back into the narrative, but found it difficult.

  Her ears were now attuned to sounds coming from downstairs, and the very thought that the motorbike was in the garden gnawed at her. She had a dinner party booked shortly, and the thought of what her friends would say when they saw that put her on edge.

  “Just ignore it,” she implored herself.

  She sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, attempting to relax again.

  5

  A Spoilt Kitty

  Katie felt herself being pulled from sleep. She turned over, pulled the duvet over her head, and tried to ignore whatever was dragging her into the waking world.

  It didn’t work.

  With every passing second, she was becoming more awake. She dangled her arm from the bed and scraped her fingers along the carpeted floor until she managed to locate her phone. She pulled out the charging cable with one hand and lifted the phone into her duvet cave.